The Hurry and the Harm
by andyoureturntome
Summary: What actually happened with Lyanna, Robert, and Rhaegar in the events during and leading up to Robert's Rebellion? Did she really love Robert? Did Rhaegar truly love her? Slight AU where their story is tracked from their seemingly innocent beginnings to their tragic ends.
1. Chapter 1

**Mostly book canon. I'm planning on following pretty closely with the events of the book; just the characters and their reactions to things will change. Spoilers (obvi!) for the book within.**

**This first chapter is a little boring, but I'm just easing into it. This is starting out as T, but it will progress to M pretty quickly...there's going to be a lot of violence, sex, and death throughout.**

**This is a bit of a slow-burner, but I promise, it'll get there.**

**GRRM is the genius behind the characters and the story line...I own none of it! I don't do this for profit, and I gain nothing for writing this!**

**The title of this comes from the amazing song of the same name by City and Colour!**

* * *

Lyanna galloped past, her hair flying wildly about her face. Her skirts billowed around her, rising and falling with the movements of her horse. She rode like a man, straddling the horse. She rode well. The horse was wild, just like its master. From where Ned stood, he could hear her happy laughter. Her face was open, and Ned's heart lifted briefly as he watched her go. It dropped again when he thought of his earlier conversation with his father. She would not always be so free.

Behind her, Robert followed on his own horse, shouting at her to slow down. Shouting back at him, she brought the horse around. She slowed it and trotted over to Ned. He offered his hand, but she ignored it and swung herself to the ground. She patted the horse fondly. Robert rode over and dismounted.

"You were right, Ned," he roared, slapping him on the back. "She's got the wolfblood in her."

Lyanna smiled slightly at her brother, her grey eyes simmering with the fire beneath. Robert took both horses and walked them over to the stables. She watched him go, her face unreadable. Her eyes slid back over to Ned, eyes dancing.

Ned tried to smile back. He had missed his sister, and he though he knew that it would cause her trouble later, he was glad to see that she was still wild as ever. She had always been strong and willful, and he loved her for it. She had the same fire in her that Brandon did.

Ned looked at his beautiful sister as she tried to get herself in order. She straightened her skirts and smoothed her hair. There was a falter in her smile, and he noticed the way trouble tinged her gaze.

"Walk with me?"

Ned nodded, and she took his arm, steering him into the godswood. As they walked among the trees, she gazed around, a peace coming over her. In the shade of the trees, she seemed to settle. The smell of the wet earth and old trees hung stagnant in the air. They moved slowly, their footsteps muffled by the ancient humus covering the ground.

Clusters of blue winter roses grew, and Lyanna stooped to pick them. They were her favorite flowers. Ned watched fondly as she gathered them. They continued on their way through the godswood until they reached the bone-white Weirwood tree at its center. Lyanna knelt before the great Heart Tree, arranging the blue flowers beneath its sad, red face. She stayed before it for a moment before rising to regard her brother.

"I missed this place," Ned said quietly. When he was eight, he and Robert had been sent to the Eyrie to become wards of Jon Arryn. Lyanna had cried when he left, angry tears that didn't understand why her brother was leaving. She had been too young remember when Brandon had left for Barrowton, so losing Ned had been hard on her.

"I still come here to pray for you."

Ned's eyes crinkled. It made his heart surge with affection for her.

"Do you think Brandon will marry Catelyn Tully here?"

"I'm not sure, sweet one," he answered her.

The troubled look returned to her face.

"Ned?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you promise me something?"

Ned didn't answer her, he only waited.

"Promise me that Robert isn't here for my hand."

"Lyanna—"

"I knew it!" Her eyes flashed angrily, and he saw the wolf in her. Robert hadn't been subtle, and Lyanna was always too quick for her own good. He had been adoring and dedicated to her since they'd arrived in Winterfell, and she had been quick to read into it.

"You knew you would have to marry soon, and Robert is my friend. He's a good man. I've grown up with him, Lya. I know him. He will treat you well."

"I don't care. _I_ don't love him! _I_ hardly know him. I just don't get a choice because I'm a girl. You don't understand, Ned!"

"I've had decisions made for me, same as you. Sometimes, we have to suspend our own desires and do what is asked of us. Our lives are not our own, dearest."

"No," she agreed bitterly, "they are Father's. And soon, mine will be Robert's." She stalked past him, back the way they came, anger and vexation radiating off of her.

Ned sighed. Their father had always said she was too wild, but none of them had had the heart to break her, and Ned knew that no man could tame her now. Though he hadn't wanted to tell her, he figured it was good to let her calm down. Robert was asking her tonight, and he fervently hoped that Lyanna wouldn't do anything foolish.

* * *

Lyanna sat before her mirror, slightly calmer now. Her maid twisted her hair into a simple Northern style then left her. Lyanna stood, sighing heavily. She had changed out of the simple grey dress from earlier and was now wearing a light blue one with deep blue roses embroidered delicately upon it. She looked hard at her reflection and studied the woman who was to become Robert Baratheon's wife.

Robert was handsome and strong, and she knew that Ned loved him dearly. She, too, was fond of the boy, but her feelings ran no deeper than that of mild affection. Ned's affirmation of her suspicions earlier still smarted, and she raised her chin haughtily. She was indignant that anyone could lay claim to her without her knowledge or permission.

A knock came at the door, and she opened it to reveal the blue eyed, dark haired boy who sought her hand. He offered her his arm, and she took it delicately, resentfully allowing him to lead her to the dining hall. The meal started out silently as they all ate hungrily.

Ned carefully broached the topic of leaving Winterfell for Harrenhal. Before long, the talk turned to the tourney being held there.

"The Whents are hosting; it's supposed to be the greatest tourney ever held!" Robert boasted as though he was the one who was hosting.

"Can I go, too?" Benjen asked.

"We are all going," Rickard declared, glancing at each one of his children, eyeing Lyanna in particular.

"It'll take a fortnight to get there, so we should probably leave soon." Rickard nodded at his elder son.

"We'll leave in the next few days."

Lyanna was already angry, and hearing the men making plans without her only worsened her mood. She pushed her plate away and rose, turning to leave without asking permission to be excused.

"Lyanna." Her father's voice offered no room for compromise. She looked at him to see her own anger reflected in his eyes. "We are not all done eating."

"Well I am," she shot back. Robert rose suddenly and crossed over to stand beside her.

"Lord Stark, I would happily escort her to her room if you would be so kind as to excuse us both."

Her father nodded, and Lyanna's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sure enough, when Robert guided her out the room, he took her not in the direction of her chambers, but out onto the grounds. They walked slowly and silently for a time.

Lyanna stared at his profile in the moonlight. There was something enticing in his handsome features, and she knew that many women vied for him. His arm felt strong wrapped in hers, and she knew he had a warrior's body. Maybe if he hadn't been foisted upon her, she could have grown to love him.

His deep blue eyes found her cold grey ones, and he gave her a roguish smile.

"My lady, thank you so much for having me. I can truly say it's a delight. Winterfell is so beautiful, and so are you." Lyanna made no acknowledgement, so he continued on, unfazed. "I'm sure it hasn't failed to escape your notice that I have sought your company fairly often." He waited for her response, and she gave a stiff nod. "I have asked your father for your hand, and he has given his blessing. Now, I ask you, will you consent to being my wife?"

Lyanna bristled even though she knew the question was coming. Robert asking her was just a formality, she knew. This wedding would commence whether she wanted it to or not. Like her, he was a stubborn man, but unlike her, he always got what he wanted.

He had not done this to be cruel, but she felt the sting of his actions all the same. She was too proud to say no and bring shame upon herself and her family, so she chose to give herself freely with as much dignity as she could muster. He hadn't known her long enough to know who she was. He thought her sweet and lovely and docile. In truth, she was hotheaded and obstinate.

Once he had her, she would fall short of his dreams. She could never make him happy, and the thought brought her a sort of grim pleasure. He was taking her happiness now, but she would have his later.

She nodded her assent, and his face broke out into an overjoyed grin. He brought his hand up and caressed her face gently. He kissed her, and she returned it stiffly, trying to suppress the resentment bubbling within her.

* * *

**So I made Lyanna a bit more cruel than I've seen elsewhere, but all I have to say is: you'd be surprised how close love and hate are and how quickly one can turn into the other!**

**This is short, and again, I know, a touch boring right now, but I've got a plan, and it should get good!**

**Thanks if you took the time to read xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Another short one. This was supposed to be part of the first chapter, but I felt like it jumped around too much, so I broke it up for better flow.**

**I'm so anxious to get to the exciting stuff, so I'm a little impatient with the slow pace...**

**Again, credit goes to GRRM. I make no profit and gain nothing!**

* * *

She sat before the Heart tree, patches of moonlight falling upon her through the branches of the trees. Her back was to him; her long, dark hair cascaded down her back. Her skirt was fanned around her, and her cloak was puddled in the snow behind her. She was looking down at her hands, and for a minute, Ned thought she was crying.

As he approached her, he saw that her eyes were dry. She had the roses from earlier in her lap, and she was shredding them to bits. Her eyes were blank as though she didn't even realize what she was doing. Her long fingers were pulling leaves and petals off and tearing them apart. The ruins of the beautiful things were piling before her, and they looked like eerie and sad shadows as they fell against the snow.

From afar, she had looked still as a statue. Now, as he knelt beside her, he could see her shaking as though her every nerve was vibrating. When she'd finished with the roses, her eyes seemed finally to engage, and she looked over their vestiges.

"Oh," she said sadly. "And they were so, beautiful, too."

"Beautiful things should be kept by those who know how to treat them."

"They're not beautiful if they're _kept_, they're just sad. The wildness goes out of them, and then they wilt."

"Robert knows how to handle beautiful things."

"No, he knows how to admire them. And his admiring eyes look far. He will stray, Ned. He may love me now, but he is a restless man. Did you know that he has a bastard daughter in the Vale? And there are sure to be countless more. He will never keep to one bed." She looked away bitterly.

"Why does it matter if you don't love him?"

"Because I love myself, and I will not bear the shame and the indignity of it."

"That child came before your betrothal. He owed you nothing before it, but he is sworn to you now. That girl does not matter, now. He has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. You've already begun to change him, and you will continue to do so."

He could tell by the stubborn set of her eyes that she didn't believe him.

"I'm so angry, Ned," she whispered, and he could feel the heat of it. They were of the North, but Lyanna had a fire in her that he didn't understand.

"It will pass."

"It will fester. I resent him, Ned. Father, too." Ned's heart broke for his sister. She was of iron strength, but even iron bent under pressure. As he looked at her tiny figure huddling in the snow, he appreciated how isolated she was. To Robert, she was a delicate and beautiful flower, his crown jewel. To Rickard Stark, she was little more than property to be sold to the highest bidder. Their father was a stern and unyielding. His long face was always a hard mask, and his grey eyes were even harder.

Ned saw his sister for what she was: beautiful and determined with a fierce heart and a fiercer temper. Nothing would make him happier than to call Robert his good-brother, but not if it came at the cost of Lyanna's happiness.

"I don't want Father to come with us to Harrenhal." Her voice did not offer room for argument, but Ned opened his mouth to do so anyway. She quickly continued before Ned could fight her. "If I am to do his will and marry Robert, he will do mine and stay here."

Ned nodded, not relishing the idea of having _that_ conversation with his father. He sighed and stood. He leaned down to offer his hand to his sister, but she shook her head, the glazed look coming back over her face. He squeezed her shoulder instead and started walking away, leaving her there to stand vigil over her hopes and dreams.

He looked back over his shoulder as he went, and he continued looking until the night swallowed her in blackness and he could see her no more.

* * *

A few days later, Rickard watched as Ned, Benjen, Robert, and Lyanna prepared to leave. Ned noticed that he looked a little sour at staying behind. Lyanna, for her part, ignored him, and chose to talk to Robert instead.

The two of them had been getting on well, mostly thanks to Lyanna's much concerted efforts to actually get to know him. Robert had a gift of turning even the most dangerous of enemies into friends, and even the intractable Lyanna had budged a bit in her opinion of him. The betrothal had begun to feel less like a noose and more like a leash.

Lyanna still chafed under it at times, however. Though amiable and kind, Robert could be a bit on the dull side. He wasn't especially intelligent, and Lyanna often lost her patience with his slow wit. She never let this show, choosing instead to smile through the annoyance. The more tolerant she was of him, the more indulgent he would later be with her.

They set off, and once they were a ways away, Lyanna turned to look one last time at her home. A fog surrounded it, and Lyanna had the strangest feeling as though she was looking at a memory instead of a real place. After the tourney, she was going to stay on with the Whents to learn how to be the lady of Storm's End. An unsettling thought flashed through her mind, and Lyanna wondered if she would ever again see this place while she was still living.

* * *

**Next chapter should have them arriving for the tourney, and things should start to pick up. **

**I'm still trying to find my footing with the characters, (none of them were super-present in the books, so it's hard to get a character read off of them) so let me know if they're not striking the right chords.**

**For Lyanna, I really feel like she's a mix of Arya and Sansa...she has Arya's free spirit and Sansa's sense. Or rather, they got these virtues of hers, seeing how she came first!**

**This story has really taken a hold of me, and I hope y'all stick with me! xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Woo I'm finally picking up steam with this! Just a warning, the beginning is structured a bit strangely. I find long descriptions of even longer journeys boring as hell, so instead, I chose to do these little snapshot moments of things that happened between Robert and Lyanna. They're told from her viewpoint, and I really wanted to show how conflicted she is with Robert. She doesn't love him, but she's going to marry him, so she has to figure out how to reconcile those two facts.**

**GRRM owns the characters and the story. I own nothing, and I certainly don't do this for profit!**

* * *

Robert rides beside her, laughing. Love is written plainly in his eyes. He doesn't care that she rides like a man. He doesn't care that she rides better than he does. She laughs too, deeply and earnestly. _Perhaps Robert will always love her for her wildness. Perhaps he will let her be free_.

...

When Ned scolds her for being too liberal and too defiant, Robert defends her, and her heart warms toward him. He smiles kindly at her, and she returns it sincerely. She allows herself to think of him fondly as her betrothed. _He will be a fair husband._

_..._

Robert is drunk, and it angers her. The more boisterous he grows, the more silent she becomes. He does not notice her irritation, nor does he notice the stares he's attracting from others in the inn. He is ugly when he drinks, she decided. Some men drink to bring out happiness, and others drink to drown out sadness. Robert drinks the demons out of him. _She could learn to live with the man, but never with his demons._

_..._

He grows sullen when he doesn't get his way, and whenever he becomes cross with or shouts at Ned, Lyanna sees a temper that could rival her own. She wonders if the day will ever come when that fury would be unleashed on her. _Mayhap, she will rise to meet him, and mayhap, they will tear each other apart._

_..._

Robert is telling her a story from his and Ned's childhood, and she is crying with laughter. His eyes are sparkling, and he is basking in the glow of her pleasure. He is passionate, like her, and he is so filled with life that at times, he seems ready to burst with it. _Their life together would at least never be dull_.

...

He is always affectionate, offering soft touches and dropping light kisses. Sometimes, they annoy her. Other times, she revels in them, feeling as they would awaken a heat beneath her skin that made her long for more. _She would only ever have pleasure from him, but who knew how many countless others he would give it to._

_..._

She lays awake at night, knowing that soon, she will no longer sleep alone. The thought of his body next to hers and within her saddens her deeply. Though she has come to know Robert better in their weeks of travelling, she knows that she will never have a true intimacy with him. A tear escapes her for the first time since learning about her betrothal. She knows that she must resign herself to a life full of moderate affection but devoid of true passion. Her sadness is endless as she lets the darkness claim her and drag her into a now dreamless sleep that is black and bleak and infinite.

* * *

Ned had watched his sister and best friend closely on their journey to Harrenhal. He saw how Robert's love grew and how Lyanna's resistance diminished. She laughed with him and talked with him, enchanting him more and more with her beauty and charms. Though it made Ned happy to see his sister getting along with Robert, he couldn't help but feel as though something was off.

He had observed the struggle she'd had with herself, and there were moments, he knew, that she hated her betrothed. Then there were other moments, where she looked more at peace, and Ned knew that she was trying to talk herself around to him. As the days had worn on, she had become more and more withdrawn, her eyes less vivacious, her smiles less full.

She looked tired today. And miserable. The more he observed Lyanna, the more fear he felt for her. She had become less and less like herself. Her eyes were hollow, and she seemed to be drifting through. She was becoming a shadow of herself, and Ned worried. Robert did not notice. If anything, he rejoiced at her docility, praising her sweetness. It would never occur to him that his presence would make a woman unhappy.

* * *

Once at Harrenhal, Lyanna slipped away from her brothers and Robert, choosing instead to walk among the tents and gaze at the people. Excitement was coursing around her, and it was contagious. She felt her heart pick up at the thought of the days ahead, filled with the thrill and stakes of the duels.

She heard happy shouts and laughter, and underneath that, cruel sniggers and painful screams. She looked around for the source of the unsettling noises, and at a distance not too far away, she saw a group of young squires beating a defenseless man. He lay curled on the ground, his hands covering his face as the boys kicked him mercilessly.

As Lyanna drew near, she could hear the sickening crack of bones and the feeble whimpering of the man. The laughter was punishing and acrid, seeming to melt the air around them. The man's screams subsided into a guttural gurgling as he reached his threshold limit for the pain.

She caught sight of his face, and her heart stopped.

"Hey!" Her voice was powerful and authoritative, and she hurled the words with a force that drew the men to a shocked pause. She picked up a fallen sword and advanced upon them. "That's my father's man you're kicking." Her voice was deadly quiet and soft as steel.

She lashed out at them and beat them away, ignoring the curious stares from the crowd that had gathered. Among the wide eyes, a pair of lilac ones glinted merrily as they followed the dark-haired beauty and the man she escorted away.

Ned looked up in surprise as Lyanna guided a bloody and defeated looking man into their tent. Brandon and Benjen looked similarly shocked. The oldest Stark brother demanded to know what was going on as Lyanna helped the man to his seat. Lyanna didn't answer them right away, choosing instead to attend to the injuries of their mystery guest.

Finally, she regarded her brothers with her steely eyes and spoke simply.

"This is Howland Reed. Ser Howland, these are my brothers, Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen."

Each of the men nodded at the bloody one, at once recognizing the name of their father's bannerman. He bowed his head to them in return, and the men awkwardly struck up a conversation. Lyanna bustled around the tent, drawing paused when she heard the mention of the feast being held that night in honor of the tourney.

"Ser Howland, you must join us!"

He began to protest, but Lyanna plowed on, drowning him out.

"Please. I insist! You are a highborn, after all, and you have just as much right to attend as anyone else!"

He could tell that she was not to be refused, so he consented meekly and allowed Benjen to take him to find something suitable to wear.

* * *

Lyanna sat between Benjen and Robert, feeling completely happy for the first time in weeks. She was even enjoying Robert's company, and she was in such a good mood that she received compliments on her engagement with grace and graciousness. They drank and ate and laughed, and Lyanna reveled in the merriment, more at home in the raucous environment than anywhere else.

Silence fell as a very tall and very handsome man walked to the middle of the room, harp in hand. Lyanna didn't know if it was the wine or something else, but when she laid eyes on him, she felt a heat rise to her cheeks, and a giddiness came over her that Robert had certainly never excited before.

He had the telltale silver hair of the Targaryens and deep purple eyes, filled with melancholy and pensiveness. Where Robert had rugged handsomeness, this man had regal beauty. Lyanna realized that he must be the Prince of Dragonstone, heir apparent to the Iron Throne.

Rhaegar began to strum, his eyes growing distant. As he started to sing, Lyanna heard herself give an audible gasp. His voice was inhumanly beautiful. His words spoke of a great and moving beauty. They spoke of Summerhall and hope and loss and pain and something else that she could not place.

As the song came to an end, Lyanna realized that she had tears pouring down her cheeks. She was so moved by the song that she didn't want to move to wipe them off. Instead, she closed her eyes, allowing the beauty of the moment to resonate within her. She was unspeakably sad, and she cried harder as she thought about the man beside her and how he could never awaken such tenderness within her.

She suddenly realized the other thing about which Rhaegar had sung. She understood it when she felt its absence in her own life. _Love_. He had sung about love. Lyanna allowed herself to feel the barrage of emotions, not caring that the tears were falling fast and thick upon her lap.

Benjen's voice ripped through and ruined the moment, shouting japes at her and mocking her for her womanly weakness.

The wolf reared within her, and before she realized what she was doing, she had dumped the contents of her wine glass all over her little brother's head. He sat in stunned silence for a few moments, as did those around them who had seen, and then everyone except Benjen erupted into delighted laughter. No one laughed harder than Robert, and he distastefully sloshed wine all over himself as he wiped the mirthful tears from his eyes.

He looked at Lyanna with his eyes shining, adoration evident. But he was not the only one. As she looked across the room, she saw the silver-haired prince staring at her with a smile playing across his lips and admiration in his eyes.

* * *

**No big notes here. Next up is the tourney, and after that, it starts to get a little AU because I have a year to fill in between now and the rebellion.**

**Thanks for reading this if you decided to stick with it! xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**I have nothing big to say here, so I'll just say the usual. GRRM is the genius behind the characters and the story, and I am not doing this for profit!**

* * *

After Rhaegar's song, Lyanna felt disconnected from the rest of the feast. She was numb and isolated in her nameless sadness that stretched out before her. She was physically present but mentally absent. She lingered in the memories of the music, wishing that it hadn't had to end.

She was jarred into consciousness by Robert's obnoxious booming laugh. It was an alcohol-laden guffaw, and sure enough, when Lyanna located him, he was sitting at a table, surrounded by empty tankards. Beside him sat Richard Lonmouth, surrounded by as many tankards but not faring half as well as the young stag.

They were clearly involved in a drinking contest, and her betrothed was obviously winning. Robert spurred his opponent on, baiting him with threats of loss and failure. Though the Knight of Skulls and Kisses tried valiantly to rally, he simply did not have the iron stomach that Robert possessed.

As he crumpled to the floor, his half-drunk flask spilling out of his hand and across the floor, Robert stood up and cheered, victorious. He grinned rakishly at her, and she felt her stomach turn with revulsion. She smiled benevolently back at him, assuming an aura of polite disinterest and hoping to pass it off as modest refinement.

Luckily, Robert found the allure of alcohol more enticing than he found her. He stepped over his fallen rival's unconscious body and continued leading the night's festivities, whipping his drunken admirers up into a rowdy frenzy. Lyanna turned away, feeling bile rise in her throat despite the fact that she was not drunk. She wondered if that was to be the definition of her life from now on: sick from her husband's diseases.

She looked at her brothers and found that Ned, too, was looking disapprovingly at Robert. He felt her gaze and met it. She raised her eyebrows at him. Her displeasure was fully pronounced on her face for the briefest moment before she let it settle back into its mask of indifference. For his part, Ned looked apologetic, and Lyanna wondered if that was to be the definition of _his_ life: always making amends for his best friend's mistakes.

Lyanna had always had a special hatred for those who hurt maliciously, but she was quickly finding Robert's brand of destruction far more damaging. He obliviously dealt out harm and left others to sow the pain from his ensuing devastation.

Her eyes moved away from Ned and fell on the three young squires from earlier. Lyanna's eyes narrowed. On the other hand, those who hurt maliciously were far more easily punished. She directed Ned, Brandon, Benjen, and Howland's attention to the three boys.

"Those three squires, of House Haigh, House Blount, and House Frey. They are the ones who attacked you earlier, Ser Howland."

Howland nodded at her, his eyes full of hurt and pain.

"You must avenge yourself! I will help you find a horse and armor, if you wish." Benjen was looking expectantly at the little man, but he made no reply. Looking supremely conflicted, the crannogman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His dilemma was written plainly upon his face, though Lyanna knew that her proud and honorable brothers could never understand how torn he was between the decision to fight or not.

Her heart went out to Howland Reed. He was a tiny wisp of a man, short in stature and small in presence. He was not commanding or fierce or strong in the way that her brothers were. He was a tiny man with no skill for fighting and little experience on horses. If he refused to fight, it would bring him shame, and if he fought and lost, it would bring him dishonor.

He sat shaking in his indecision, but was saved from the pressure of answering when Ashara Dayne materialized before them, her purple eyes full of laughter. Brandon roared in pleasure and shoved Ned toward her, having asked her to dance on behalf of his younger brother. Ned smiled shyly at her, clearly cowed in her presence.

Her brothers, too, moved away to dance, and Lyanna noted with something between derision and disgrace that Robert was dancing a bit too familiarly with another woman. She rolled her eyes and landed her hand in her chin as her elbow rested on the table. Howland sulked a ways away, mired in self-doubt and self-loathing.

"If I were your betrothed, I would be dancing with you."

Lyanna looked up to see the dragon prince, all charismatic charm and beguiling beauty, staring down at her. He wasn't quite smiling. Instead, he regarded her with an intensity that made her extremely aware of the heat that suddenly flared in her cheeks and other certain parts of her body.

He settled into the seat beside her that Benjen had just abandoned. His purple eyes seemed to hold her hostage. They were mesmeric in their deepness, and Lyanna found that she could not look away.

He caught a piece of her hair that had fallen loose from her curls and tucked it behind her ear. She had gasped with the sudden contact and then forgotten how to breathe altogether. As he drew away from her, he smiled enigmatically, and she fought the impulse to lean into him.

"Why _are_ you alone Lady Lyanna Stark?"

Her heart thrilled to know that he had taken the trouble to learn her name. She nodded toward Robert.

"Robert would be a foolish man indeed to refuse wanton willingness for an already guaranteed conquest. I hold neither the thrill nor the forbiddances he seeks."

She knew it was inappropriate to speak as such about a nobleman, especially her intended, to a prince, but Lyanna somehow sensed that what she was saying was neither shocking nor surprising to the silver-haired man. Her suspicions were confirmed when he laughed lightly.

"You make men sound so simple, chasing things they cannot have."

"Am I wrong?"

He looked troubled for a minute, staring at her almost pointedly. His expression cleared moments later, and he resumed looking at her with delighted amusement.

"You are not wrong, my lady. But maybe that is the secret to success: you pursue something long enough, it eventually becomes yours." He seemed to be speaking about something more than just Robert or her. His eyes had taken on a sad, distant look, and he seemed to be remembering something. "But our pursuits can come at a price."

Lyanna nodded at that and sighed. "Restless Robert. He will cost us a great deal before he's done."

Rhaegar's eyes were dancing again as he gazed at her, though there were still touches of sadness about them as he spoke. "Melancholy is a burdensome thing, but we wear it well." He was half-joking and half-serious, and Lyanna chose to appeal to the playful side. She laughed but couldn't stop some of her bitterness from slipping in.

The music began dying down as men began passing out or leaving. Her brothers were coming toward her, Robert supported between them. Rhaegar stood to leave, clasping her tiny hand in his large one.

"A good evening to you, my lady," he murmured as he dropped a kiss upon it before moving away.

Her hand still tingled with the contact even as she stood and followed her brothers out.

They moved to their separate tents, and Lyanna heard Ned offering Howland his hospitality. The man gratefully accepted, saying he would be along in just a minute. Lyanna hung back in the shadows until she was alone with the crannogman. As she heard his whispered prayer to the old gods, she felt a new resolve build within her.

* * *

**And NOW the tourney can officially start! I forgot that I had the second half of the banquet still to write. This is a short update, but I'm planning on the rest being fairly lengthy.**

**Thanks for the support, y'all! xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Good lord, writing this one was a struggle! I should probably warn that the chapters hereafter are going to become increasingly AU. Also, I don't plan on writing the events of the entire tourney (the melee, the archery competition, the tourney of singers, etc.) in great detail. I know my limits!**

**I don't own the characters or the story; GRRM does. I write this for fun, and I don't gain anything from this!**

* * *

Lyanna was up early the next morning. In fact, she had never gone to sleep. Her eyes were puffy, and dark circles blossomed beneath them. Her face was pale and drawn as her maid quickly fixed her hair and dressed her. She exited her tent, her gait slow and graceful as she walked amongst the tents in the early morning light.

"My Lady Lyanna!"

She paused when she heard his voice, full of music even when speaking. She looked over her shoulder without turning and gazed at him from the corner of her eye. Her stare followed him as he drew up beside her. His purple eyes swept across her face, and the light in them sparkled and danced. He offered her his arm, and she took it lightly, a slight flush creeping over her face.

They walked silently, directionless for a while. He stole another look at her before clearing his throat.

"There have been strange repots, my lady. A thief in the night. Armor missing. It's nothing big, but too many pieces have disappeared for it to be merely a coincidence."

Lyanna's heart surged and began to beat erratically. There was no question in his voice, but she felt pressured to answer him all the same.

"Oh?" she finally replied, fighting to keep her voice even.

"Indeed," he replied, a curious smile tugging at his lips. "It's all so very odd. From what I've heard is missing, it sounds as though someone is trying to assemble a piecemeal suit of armor."

Her grip tightened momentarily on his arm before she forced it to relax. She didn't trust herself to answer him, so they resumed their quiet walk. He had taken her in a giant circle, she realized, and soon enough, they had arrived back at her tent. More time had passed than she'd noticed, and Brandon and Ned were waiting for her, looking worried.

"Where have you been?" her older brother demanded of her.

"My lords, please, it was my fault. I abducted her for a short spell. Forgive me." He gave a slight bow. Ned looked appeased, but Brandon was regarding the dragon prince with intense dislike. A proud and handsome man, he was vain enough to feel threatened, and he bore it ill.

Before either brother had a chance to respond, Rhaegar had turned his attention back to Lyanna.

"Thank you, my lady. It is always a pleasure." He kissed her hand and left. Lyanna watched his lithe form slip away into the pale yellow light of morning. When she turned back to her brothers, they were staring at her with a mixture of astonishment and admonishment.

Her face darkened. "I'm famished, and it's rude to keep a lady waiting. Are you going to continue gaping or are you going to feed me?"

* * *

The sun was high above them now, and shining with full force. Lyanna sat between her brothers, feeling anxious and excited. The knights paraded past, their armor glinting and reflecting into the eyes of the crowd. The smallfolk cheered loudly, joining in with the braying of the horses and the laughter of the knights. Lyanna felt caught up in the enthusiasm, and her cheeks shone pink with pleasure. The rush of the noise and activity was all-consuming and infectious, and Lyanna found herself eager for the tourney to begin.

A sudden, chilling silence fell when King Aerys Targaryen arrived. Lyanna gasped when she saw the man. His face was gaunt and pale. The sockets of his eyes were positioned above the sharp planes of his face, and his skin sagged and folded into itself, sinking into the hollows of his bony and fleshless face. His hair hung past his shoulders, tangled and matted and ragged. His beard was just as long and just as snarled.

He walked slowly, his clothes hanging off of him, and Lyanna imagined the way his joints must have snapped and cracked with the toll his movements took on his skeletal frame. He was hunched, his once powerful body now atrophied and shriveled. His stoop was possessive, as though he was trying to keep out even the stares of others.

His fingernails were yellow and cracked, and they were so long that they spiraled under, giving him a grotesque and surreal appearance. He had the look of an emaciated dragon, not unlike the last sickly and misshapen one that had hatched under Aegon III. As Lyanna stared at his waxy and ashen visage of the king, she found herself cringing at the horrifying decay of the once vibrant ruler.

His lips, thin and hard, were pulled into a grim line. Positioned above them were the most frightening of his features. Bloodshot and slightly bugging, his eyes spoke of madness both acquired and distributed. His rheumy gaze swept across the field, intense with a surprising anger that seemed incongruous with the relative inertness of the rest of his body.

The man was little more than a living corpse, but when his eyes found his eldest son, they took on a vitality that was terrifying to behold. Lyanna's heart startled to a stop when she saw the blazing hatred with which he regarded Rhaegar. The loathing in the king's stare was only rivaled by that in Rhaegar's as he glared back at his royal father.

For the first time since meeting the gentle and brooding prince, Lyanna saw the dragon beneath, and she was mesmerized by the power he radiated. The acrimony between father and son seemed to sizzle in the air, and no one wanted to cross between the two.

Aerys Targaryen, Second of His Name, had not been seen outside the Red Keep in five years. There were rumors that the king had succumbed to insanity,—an affliction not uncommon in the Targaryens—and Lyanna did not doubt that they were true.

It was no secret in the realm that Denys Darklyn's capture and six-month imprisonment of the Old King had catalyzed his descent into madness and prompted the paranoia that now ran rampant within him. The damage sustained during the Defiance of Duskendale had transcended more than the psyche of the now-fragile regent, however. It had caused unrest and uncertainty in the realm as Aerys' distrust and suspicion had caused him to grow increasingly cruel. He saw plots to kill him in even the most benign of interactions, and he exacted sadistic and torturous punishments against those he viewed as complicit in his imagined crimes against the crown.

Lyanna had heard other rumors that his obsessive delusions had turned even his Hand against him, and, noting Tywin Lannister's absence, she surmised that they were true.

Tywin had sought a marriage between his daughter, Cersei, and Prince Rhaegar, but Aerys had refused, claiming that Tywin was but a servant of the realm, and that daughters of servants do not marry the sons of kings. Aerys had grown progressively fearful of Tywin and his intentions, believing him to be a grasping and seditious usurper-in-waiting. As such, he had deprived his Hand of his firstborn and son and heir by making him a member of the Kingsguard. Never allowed to marry, Jamie Lannister had been prevented from producing an heir and perpetuating the Lannister line.

Tywin had forgiven the affront of the refusal of his daughter's hand, but he could not excuse the blow that was losing his oldest son. He had effectively abandoned his king for Casterly Rock, leaving him to rule over his illusions with insanity and brutality.

Aerys had retreated further into himself and into his deluded world, listening only to the words of Varys, The Spider. He had departed so severely from reality that he distrusted even his own son. The tourney marked the first time since his imprisonment that Aerys had left King's Landing, and it was with apprehension that Lyanna wondered why he was here.

She could not shake the feeling that his presences was of ill portent for his son.

* * *

The first competitors were called up, and the fervor resurrected, but Lyanna couldn't generate the same enthusiasm as before. Anxiety bubbled in her stomach, and even though she wasn't looking at him, she could feel the king's presence, and it disturbed her deeply. She tried to focus on the tourney as the previous Queen of Love and Beauty relinquished her title and the knights of House Whent tried and failed to reclaim it for her.

She felt no joy in the victories, and no pity in the losses. She felt nothing but abysmal and profound sadness and terror for the dragon prince.

It surprised her to think that she felt so intensely for a man she had just met, but he had taken hold of her without warning or prelude. Though she couldn't explain it, there was a connection between the two of them, and she was loath to lose him to the madness of his father.

As though conjured by her thoughts, he materialized in her periphery, and she could feel the heat of his gaze even from the distance at which she was sitting. She turned to face him. He stared at her with haunting, unfathomable eyes, and she knew that he understood and shared the dread that she felt.

The cheering of the crowd drew away her gaze, and she narrowed her eyes when she saw the Knight of House Haigh standing victorious. She narrowed her eyes at the knight and his unscrupulous squire, still feeling the unfairness of Howland's malicious beating. When she looked around, she saw that her prince had vanished.

Able to bear no more injustice for the day, Lyanna rose and left in disgust.

* * *

She lay in bed with a heaviness pressing upon her. Sleep did not come easy, and when it did come, it was not peaceful.

_Rhaegar was playing his harp for her, his eyes closed and his voice sweet. She was not happy, though. She was afraid, terribly afraid. She felt a shadow come over her, and she turned to see a dragon, thin and fearsome with peeling skin and red eyes. It came at them with surprising speed and viciousness, and Lyanna shouted at Rhaegar to get out of the way, but he could not hear her over his music. She ran to him, and pulled at his arm. Rhaegar finally opened his eyes and stared at her, drawing her into their endless depths. The luminous purple gave in to black, and soon, Lyanna was surrounded by the darkness. It finally began to fade, and shadows formed and took the shape of three sinister-looking men. They began beating her, and every time she tried to fight back, one would materialize behind her and knock her down. They were laughing, laughing, laughing. She closed her eyes to the blackness._

When she opened them again, she was staring at the roof of her tent. She was covered in sweat, and she was shaking. She rose from her bed, and, silent as a whisper, she slipped outside.

* * *

The next day, Lyanna's dark circles were even more prominent, and her anger flared even more dangerously when the knights of House Frey and House Blount won their jousts.

She leapt up in revulsion. Ned beside her looked alarmed.

"Must the cowards always win?" she demanded of him.

He looked confused, and she pointed a shaking finger at the two knights.

"Their squires and the squire of House Haigh were those who beat and disgraced our father's man, and no one will stand and avenge that offense."

Ned began to speak soothing words, but she would hear none of them, storming away from the grounds yet again. He did not know what to think of his sister's sudden mood swing, and he was perplexed as to why she would leave the fighting early two days in a row. He shook his head and focused instead on the events below.

Though lively, the jousts were nothing unexpected, and Ned felt his interest starting to drift. He took no great interest in tourneys. In fact, he found them tedious and dull. He looked away, choosing to observe the people rather than the knights. He saw a young Jamie Lannister, newly appointed to the Kingsguard. He also saw Robert, boastful and confident as ever.

Ned was just contemplating leaving early himself when he heard fervent whispers cropping up all around him. He looked back to the field as he saw a knight, short of stature and outfitted in what appeared to be scraps of different suits of armor. On the knight's arm was a shield that bore the image of a white tree with a red, laughing face.

There was a general shout of laughter amongst the spectators and the knights as they regarded this joke of an entrant, but they did not refuse him when he challenged the knights of Houses Haigh, Blount, and Frey.

Ned groaned as he realized who was likely concealed under the helmet of the mystery knight.

* * *

**The next chapter will be told largely from Rhaegar's POV because I think it's high time we've heard from him.**

**It's extremely challenging to describe jousting in a thrilling way, especially when there are like ten rounds of it, so I don't plan on going into a lot of detail for each one. Sorry for any disappointment that news might cause!**

**Thanks for the favs/follows/reviews. Words can't even describe how much your support means xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I write this for fun and not for profit!**

* * *

Rhaegar watched the mystery knight as he squared off against his first opponent. Laughter erupted around the bedraggled knight, and he joined in, but where theirs was mocking, his was knowing. The new knight in the list was no mystery to him.

The knight of House Haigh sneered at his challenger, unfazed in the face of this underwhelming foe. The two waiting knights were falling over each other in amusement, not believing this knight with the tree on his shield would last long enough to face them. They charged at each other, the larger knight holding his lance loosely. He galloped forward, almost lazily, not believing that he could lose.

The Knight of the Laughing Tree rode hard, holding his lance firm and steady. He unseated his opponent easily. The knight fell to the ground amid rabid cheers from the crowd. There was little love for House Haigh among the smallfolk, and that he'd lost to an unknown and unqualified knight only added to their joy.

Mirth wiped from their faces, the knights of House Blount and House Frey straightened up in outrage. Rhaegar laughed lightly, awed in spite of himself. His eyes shone and danced as they followed the knight's victory lap around the field.

The knight of House Blount mounted his horse amidst the jeering of the spectators who were now squarely on the side of the mystery knight. They watched avidly as the two knights charged each other. This time, the Knight of the Laughing Tree did not win so easily. After their first collision, both knights stayed seated, though barely. As they lunged at one another again, Rhaegar could feel the tension in the silence as the crowd took a collective intake of breath.

He smirked confidently, eyes narrowing as he watched his knight tilt the lance determinedly and drive his opponent from his horse. The knight of House Blount screamed in frustration, throwing his helmet to the ground. He yelled for the coward knight to unmask himself, but the command was drowned out by the ear-splitting cheers roaring around them.

The third knight leapt onto his horse and galloped to meet him, fury evident in his pace. He struck sure and solidly. The Knight of the Laughing Tree was almost thrown from his saddle; he rode at a perilous angle, fighting to right himself. The knight of House Frey came around for a second blow, and the mystery knight barely had time to prepare before it came. Again, the knight was left flailing as his opponent laughed viciously, raising his lance in the air. The crowd was screaming, but angrily. None wanted to see House Frey win.

Rhaegar tensed, sensing the wrath of the smaller knight. He rode with unparalleled ferocity and thrust with a strength augmented by rage. The crowd was beside itself as it watched the knight fall. Rhaegar joined in the applause, impressed with the tiny rider.

He had a wildness about him that seemed familiar.

Not everyone was as joyous as the smallfolk, however. Nearby, he saw Robert yelling angrily. Rhaegar felt a twinge of annoyance as the oaf bellowed out his vows to unmask the mystery knight. Richard Lonmouth joined in on the yelling, promising the same thing.

On the field, the Knight of the Laughing Tree stood before the three disgraced knights. He had amassed their armor and their horses, and they had come to pay the ransom to get their things back.

The knight spoke in a booming, unrecognizable voice.

"I will restore your property to you. All you need do is grant my one small request. Your squires beat cruelly a crannogman who was defenseless and smaller than they. They acted without honor and disgraced him. Teach your squires honor, and the horses and armor are yours."

The knights proceeded to reprimand their squires, humiliating them before all of the tourney-goers. The mystery knight, nodded, satisfied. The crowd cheered loudly, celebrating the two-fold victory. This only served to enrage Robert further, but it wasn't the young stag's ire that Rhaegar was worried about, for Aerys sat on the other side of the field, his face black with anger.

* * *

Rhaegar slowly entered his father's presence, annoyed at being summoned.

"Protocol demands that you bow before your king. To the best of my knowledge, I am still king, boy."

Rhaegar knelt before his father resentfully. The Mad King continued in his dangerously quiet whisper, his voice colored in paranoia.

"Though if you have your way, I won't be for much longer."

Rhaegar stayed silent. He glanced up at cautiously to gauge if his father would believe the truth if he spoke it. He was met only with crazed eyes, bulging with suspicion.

"Ah, yes. I know all about your plots to usurp my throne. I know how you came here to gather men to oppose me. I know you thirst for my crown."

"You are mistaken, father. I am loyal to you."

Aerys made a strangling noise that was a cross between laughter and disbelief.

"And this Knight of the Laughing Tree is not _your_ man sent to offend and undermine me?!"

Rhaegar hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. It was always dance with his father, and one misstep could mean his death.

"I do not know this mystery knight; no one does."

"Well, a true friend to the throne would unmask this sleeping threat. An enemy would conceal and protect this knight. And we know what I do to my enemies."

A sinister smiled curled across Aerys' gaunt face. He leaned back and crossed his skeletal hands across his stomach, satisfied that he had tasked his son with the impossible. Rhaegar's heart dropped into his stomach, heavy as a stone. Aerys' madness had a penchant for wildfire and throwing people to it.

When he finally spoke, it was with a lifeless and monotone voice.

"I will bring you the Knight of the Laughing Tree."

He rose and bowed at his father before walking swiftly away.

* * *

His feet took him to her tent before he even realized what he was doing. He entered silently and saw her there, all passionate energy and frenetic motion. She was rushing about, wrapping things and shoving them into her trunk.

She whipped around and saw him there. She started in surprise and dropped what she was holding. The sheet fell from the shield, exposing it as it tumbled between them.

She was never quite still, he noticed as he bent to pick it up. Though she stood motionless before him, she still seemed to be vibrating with a wild and restless dynamism that never quieted or ceased. She looked at him with defiant eyes, her chin raised haughtily and her jaw set stubbornly.

He studied the shield's crude painting. His finger traced over the image of the tree's laughing face. When he looked again at Lyanna, he was pleased to see the fight in her face. She was beautiful, and she was willful, and she was more alive than anyone he had ever known. Such vitality was even more attractive when he compared it to his own wife's lassitude and sickliness.

He saw her steely eyes flash, daring him to expose her. A coy smile skittered across his face. She mirrored him moments later, and he knew that she had understood that he would keep her secret. They hadn't spoken, and yet, they had spoken volumes. He felt the strangest sense of communion with her, and yet, so much about her was a mystery.

He brought a hand to her cheek, and she pressed her face against it, closing her eyes. He stared intently at her, longing to know her. Her lips parted slightly, and he had a crazy impulse to kiss them. They had unconsciously moved closer to one another, and they were mere inches apart.

The shield dangled by his side, all but forgotten. Heat radiated between them, and Rhaegar found himself fascinated by the feelings she was awakening within him. Her grey eyes sparked with passion as she opened them to look at him.

The moment was shattered as Robert's voice came booming loudly from outside her tent.

"Lyanna! Come! Richard and I have some theories about this so-called Knight of the Laughing Tree."

She slipped away from him, and he let his hand drop to his side. She walked out of the tent without looking back. He waited until he heard her lead her brother and betrothed away before he too left.

* * *

He threw the shield at his father's feet.

"I found no sign of The Knight of the Laughing Tree, save for his shield, hanging in a tree."

* * *

**That wasn't very good, and I'm sorry! Next chapter is mostly written, and it's much better!**

**Thanks for the support! xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Same old, same old: GRRM owns characters and ASOIAF. I make nothing and own nothing!**

* * *

Lyanna walked with Robert and Ned, hoping that Rhaegar made it out of her tent unnoticed. Her heart was still racing from whatever had passed between them moments earlier. He had seemed unsurprised when he saw the shield. In fact, he had seemed amused, satisfied, even. She didn't know what to make of it. Things felt unresolved between them, and she was determined to finish what they had started earlier.

Robert beside her was still fuming over the mystery knight. He spoke of his and Richard's theories, running through the list of men present at the tourney, entertaining them and discounting them as possibilities in turn. Ned's eyes were narrowed suspiciously, but it wasn't at what Robert was saying. He was glancing behind him, an apprehensive look on his face. Lyanna only half-listened to her betrothed, well aware of Ned's scrutinizing gaze upon her.

When they reached Robert's tent, he burst inside, but Ned held his sister back. His grey eyes were hard as stone as they studied her resolute face. He lifted a hand and placed it heavily on her shoulder.

"I'm beginning to worry about you, Lyanna."

She shrugged away from his touch, eyes flashing.

"Well you don't have to, Ned. I'm fine."

She turned to go, but he grabbed her elbow. She tried to twist away, but he held fast. Begrudgingly, she met his stare. His gaze and grip softened.

"Are you? I know you don't want to marry Robert, but you can't rebel like this. You're going to get yourself in trouble that even Robert won't be able to fix."

She jerked her arm away.

"I'm not _rebelling_," she hissed.

Ned raised his eyebrows.

"Ignoring Robert? Entering the tourney? Having secret meetings with Rhaegar Targaryen?"

Her eyes widened in shock. _So Ned had seen him_.

"They're not secret meetings! We just run into each other at odd times, and all we do is talk inno—"

"—He has a fixation on you, Lyanna! I know you can see the way he looks at you! It's unhealth—"

"—And as for the tourney," she spoke over him, trying to keep her voice down so Robert wouldn't hear, "I was defending someone who had no means to do so for himself. Maybe if you had helped—"

"Aerys has named you his enemy. He sent his son to find out your identity. You shouldn't have interfered. It wasn't your place!"

"No." Her chest was heaving with outrage and indignation. "No," she repeated, "my place is beside Robert, _my beloved_. And I have the whole rest of my life to pay attention to him, so forgive me for ignoring for as long as I can now."

"I'm trying to protect _you_. I know you don't love him, but if you stop fighting this, you might be able to find happiness with him. Why make the rest of your life miserable? You have to try to make your marriage at least bearable."

He looked so sad for her, it broke her heart.

"Maybe I'm just not the marrying type."

Ned sighed heavily.

"You're going to have to be."

"What the hell are you two doing out here?" Robert took in the scene, his brow crinkling in puzzlement at the angry tears in Lyanna's eyes. It was Ned who answered in a strangely dead voice.

"Nothing. Lyanna's been tired lately, and I suggested that she might want to rest instead of watching the jousting tomorrow. You can imagine how much she liked that."

Robert waved his hand in Robert's face.

"Ned! She's not your worry anymore! She's mine now!" He placed an arm possessively around her waist. She looked mutinous as he escorted her into the tent. Ned followed, not sure if he grieved more for his sister or for his best friend.

Dinner passed uneventfully. Lyanna mourned and Ned moped. Oblivious to it all, Robert drank heavily, and the more pints he emptied, the further withdrawn Lyanna became. When it was finally late enough, Lyanna rose, her face taut and her eyes steely. She excused herself.

Robert tried to stand to walk her back and promptly passed out. Ned looked uncertainly at her before bending down to help his friend to bed. She hadn't meant to make him choose, but it felt like he had. Anger and hurt chased each other across her face, and her brother felt heavy with remorse.

"Goodnight, Ned."

"I love you Lyanna."

"No, you love him."

She left knowing that she had hit her mark.

* * *

She was digging furiously in the moonlight, channeling all of her anger and rage into ripping the ground apart. Cuts formed on her hands, and the dirt chafed against her skin, but she didn't stop. She welcomed the pain. She deserved to hurt for hurting Ned. She even deserved it for hurting Robert, though he didn't know it.

When the hole was finally deep enough, she threw in some of the armor she'd stolen. She covered it quickly and started another hole. She stiffened, sensing a presence behind her. She didn't even turn around. The electricity in the air told her who it was.

He crouched beside her and wordlessly started digging. They made quick work of the remaining armor, and he held his hand out to her, helping her rise. He was giving her that look that Ned had warned her about. Instead of being worried, she was thrilled.

"Thank you. For keeping my secret. For protecting me from…your father."

Rhaegar didn't respond.

"Was he very angry with you."

He shrugged.

"I'm sorry if my actions caused you sorrow."

Finally, he responded. He sounded distantly angry.

"I was born in sorrow, my lady."

She had heard the stories of Rhaegar Targaryen, he who was born on the tragic day that Summerhall had burned.

He paused, acknowledging the pitying look she wore.

"Don't be sorry for me. As I said, I've grown in the shadow of sorrow, so I know it well. And you've caused me anything but."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she looked at the loose patches of earth and patted them down with her feet. She moved closer to him, and she reached out to grab his arm at the same time that he held it out to her.

They walked back in silence. When they reached her tent, he kissed her hand, just as he always did. He was a short distance away from her when he turned back.

"Why a laughing tree?"

"Because I feel like the sad faces of the Heart Trees are lies. They laugh at my prayers, anyway, so I decided to put a true face on it."

She could hear his laughter long after he had disappeared in the darkness.

* * *

**Next one will be another Rhaegar POV. I love writing from his perspective. I too, find him fascinating. He just seems so beautiful and mystical...like a unicorn lol.**

**Thanks for the support, y'all! Another (longer) one tonight! xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ugh. I don't know about this chapter. It took me FOREVER to write it and rewrite it, and I'm still unsure. **

**Apologies if it's boring!**

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I don't own this nor do I write any of this for profit!**

* * *

The morning was grey and dark. The crowd began to gather. Knights walked around the field, checking their horses and talking to one another. Lyanna emerged from her tent, blinking blearily. Ned was waiting outside with a truce in his eyes. She took his arm and they walked together silently.

She was still bitter from their fight yesterday, and he was still hurt, but they both pretended that they weren't. He was comforting and solid next to her, and it was a welcome relief from Rhaegar and the unbalancing effect he had on her. Few people were able to unsettle her, but the prince had had an unnerving way about him. She smiled softly to herself as she thought of the way Rhaegar had helped her the night before, but she was still apprehensive about his motives in doing so.

When they reached the field, the excitement was building in the air. The knights were clad in their armor, and a flash of red caught her eye. With a sharp intake of breath, Lyanna took in the scarlet three-headed dragon displayed across Rhaegar's chest plate. Everything about him was shining and magnificent. He stood at least a head taller than most of his fellow knights, and his shoulders were thrown back confidently. His beauty bore a shocking radiance, especially beneath the drab sky.

Always keenly aware of her, her felt her stare and turned to face her. He gave a subtle bow, and she returned it with a slight dip of her head. She smiled demurely and turned away, knowing that he would only shake his head in amusement.

Ned was frowning in his direction, but before he could say anything disapproving to her, Robert appeared at her side. He was cantankerous from his night of drinking, and apparently annoyed at something else, as well.

"Richard just told me that the Knight of the Laughing Tree has disappeared. The prince told his father that he went looking for him and all he found was his shield hanging in a tree."

Robert irritably rolled his eyes.

"They should have sent me after him. I would have tracked him down."

Lyanna choked down a giggle at the irony in his statement, and Ned's face grew graver still with condemnation.

Some distance away, the bearer of Robert's bad news was coming their way. Robert waved at Ser Richard, and he came over, eyes crinkling. He wedged himself between Lyanna and Robert and easily struck up a conversation with them. He and Robert were soon rehashing the events over the last couple of days, and Lyanna let her mind and eyes wander away.

The knights were parading past, but she only focused on one in particular. She didn't realize who she was watching until Richard spoke up.

"I used to squire for him, you know," he said nodding at Rhaegar.

Lyanna cut her eyes over to him.

"I have immense respect for him," he continued. "He is superlative in every sense. At all he attempts, he excels. He is intelligent and masterful, but he doesn't lord it over everyone else. He is beloved. Listen to the crowd cheer for him."

Indeed, the smallfolk were almost uncontrollable in their fervor as they avidly watched him ride. Lyanna felt an inexplicable surge of pride.

"It is a wonder to me that he should be so unhappy when he is so accomplished."

Lyanna looked surprised at the knight's statement, and he was quick to explain.

"He has always been somber and sad. Many say it is because he was born the day that Summerhall, the Targaryen's great castle, burned to the ground."

Lyanna nodded, already knowing the story. Rumor had it that Aegon V had been trying to hatch ancient dragon eggs in an attempt to bring dragons back when his efforts caught fire to the castle. Rhaegar had been born the same day, and many said that he beheld the place with great despondence and even greater fascination.

"To me, he seems more pensive than sad. Do you remember him as sad?"

Richard looked thoughtful for a moment.

"No. I mostly remember him as serious and studious. He told me that as a child, he had never been interested in swordplay; he was far more interested in his books. As a result, there was no great hope that he would be a knight. Then one day, he read something in one of his books that made him decide to be a knight. And now, he is unmatched."

She furrowed her brow. She had never heard that about the prince.

Her attention snapped back to the field when she realized that the knights were no longer parading past the crowd. She blinked in surprise when she realized that she had been talking through her brother's duel. He had apparently just won, looking grimly pleased with the victory.

She joined in the cheering for Brandon, albeit a little guiltily.

_Rhaegar was up next_, she realized with a thrill.

He rode magnificently, all grace and power. He struck without hesitation and felled Lord Yohn Royce with ease. She joined in the cheering, her cheeks growing pink with the exertion. Ned clapped politely, though he still seemed ill at ease. Rhaegar rode around the field in triumph, and when he passed her, he gave the slightest jerk of his head to the far edge of the field. When he'd gone again, she could feel Ned's eyes on her, and she knew that he'd seen.

Ignoring him, she rose and thanked Ser Richard for his time. As she passed Robert, he grabbed her hand and kissed it lightly. He smiled up at her affectionately, and she forced a smile in return. She left without looking back at him or Ned.

* * *

He approached her, smiling serenely without a touch of uncertainty, and she smiled easily back. Ned watched them with growing dread. It was dangerous the way they were looking at each other. He glanced over at Robert, but he wasn't paying attention. He hadn't tracked Lyanna's movements over to the edge of the field, and he wasn't watching the dragon prince take her hand and kiss it, caressing it long after he should have let it go. But Ned had, and Ned was.

The way they behaved around each other was unnatural, Ned decided. They seemed to orient themselves around one another; one body would shift in reaction to the other's movements, and they seemed unable to look away from one another. Even from the distance at which Ned was sitting, he could feel the attraction between the two of them, and it made him panicky that they were so obviously on display.

No one else seemed to be paying them any mind, however. As Ned scanned the crowd, he couldn't find anyone who had noticed the pair. He felt a temporary relief that was quickly replaced by alarm when he saw them slipping away through the crowd.

He muttered something to Robert about keeping Lyanna company before quickly rushing after them. He caught sight of them entering the stables and sprinted in that direction. He appeared in the doorway, looking thunderous.

Lyanna's grey eyes were furious, though unsurprised.

"Your Grace, forgive me, but I would like a word with my sister."

The prince nodded his silver head.

"Of course. My lady, I shall wait for you here."

Lyanna stalked over to Ned and brushed past him, her shoulder purposely colliding hard with his chest.

"What?" she snapped once they were outside.

"Were you even listening to what I said yesterday? You can't keep disappearing with the prince. He is married, and you are betrothed, and you both have reputations that are precariously close to becoming sullied!"

"He's just going to take me into town for the afternoon. It's harmless!"

"And what excuse were you going to give for your simultaneous absences?"

Lyanna looked puzzled for a minute, but then, her look brightened.

"Ned, please, just stay out of sight for the afternoon, and tell everyone that _you_ were the one to take me Harrentown for the day."

"While you sneak off with Rhaegar? No!"

"Yes! I'm not sneaking off. Stop making problems out of nothing."

"So if it's not a problem, then you won't mind if I tell Robert about you and Prince Rhaegar's blossoming friendship."

Her eyes flashed, sharp as steel.

"No. Don't tell anyone. Promise me, Ned. Promise you won't."

"Lyanna, I don't know if I can do that."

Lyanna's eyes hardened, and he knew that she was going to do as she pleased whether he agreed to protect her or not. Angry as he was at her, he couldn't allow harm to come to her, so he sighed and relented.

She pulled him into a swift hug and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing inside to rejoin her prince.

* * *

She was beautiful. He watched her ride joyously, and his own heart soared alongside her. There was a recklessness about her that he adored. It awoke in him long-forgotten dreams and desires. It gave him a glimpse of what it was like to be free—free of his father, and free of the specter of the rapidly-declining Targaryen name.

She dashed ahead of him, turning over her shoulder. Her face was filled with laughter, and her dark curls were bouncing around her wildly. When they reached town, he took the lead and led her through it to the banks of the God's Eye.

He dismounted, and before he could go over to help her, Lyanna had already swung herself to the ground. He chuckled to himself. She was such a curiosity, always so self-reliant and independent. He loved how different she was from his sickly and dependent wife.

"Town is behind us. Why are we here?" She was eyeing the water and the little boat on its shore with suspicion.

"Do you know what lays at the center of this lake, my lady?"

Lyanna shook her head.

"The Isle of Faces, home to the only weirwoods in the south."

Lyanna's face lit up with delight. Rhaegar nodded, relishing her excitement.

"Let's see if we can't find a laughing tree."

They left the horses on the shore with a servant of Rhaegar's who had silently appeared, and Lyanna suspected that he had put more planning into this spur-of-the-moment tip than he'd originally let on.

* * *

He watched her as she walked among the trees, touching the trunks reverently, and looking up at them in awe. Red light filtered down through the leaves, causing the white of her dress to take on his house colors. He liked her in the Targaryen red, he decided.

The red faces of the trees watched them as they slowly made their way through the forest. She walked slightly ahead of him, her gown pooling on the ground behind her and skimming over the ground, waxing and waning like the tide with her motions. She came to sit at the base of a large tree. Its face was sunken and sad. Red sap slid down its face like tears of blood.

He didn't like these trees. They were too gruesome. Too gloomy.

There was a magic here for her, though, and he didn't understand it.

"What about them is so enchanting for you?"

"I have prayed to them ever since I was little."

"But I thought you said they never answer your prayers?"

Lyanna shrugged.

"Then why do you love them so?"

"I don't know. Don't you think there's something comforting in believing in the uncertain?"

"I think it's more disconcerting than anything. There are no limits to impossible dreams. You can build your hopes higher and higher, and there's always the danger of losing touch of reality."

"You're thinking about your ancestors, aren't you? And their dragons."

He nodded. His ancestors had had incredible dreams, but he did too.

"You can have your castles in the sky, but they must always be mired in reality."

She frowned at him.

"You do that a lot, you know."

"Do what?"

"Talk in riddles. It's maddening."

He bowed his head, a small smile playing at his lips.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I do not mean to vex you. Please, ask me anything you want, and I will answer you directly."

"What made you decide to be a knight? Ser Richard said that it was something you read in a book."

The question caught him off guard. He blinked in surprise a few times before meeting her unflinching stare.

"Do you know the prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"I thought you were going to give me answers, not more questions."

"Forgive, me, my lady, but this is necessary. Now, do you know the prophecy?"

Grudgingly, she shook her head.

"As you might know, when I was young, I read all that I could put my hands on. What I found most fascinating were the histories and the legends. My family plays a large part in many of those, and the idea of being part of that legacy was intoxicating when I was younger.

"I found an old box of scrolls one day, full of myths and prophecies. One stood out in particular. It was the story of the savior come again. It said that from the blood of the dragon, a prince born of smoke and salt beneath the bleeding star will have the song of fire and ice, and he will take up his sword and save us all."

"Save us all from what?"

"The scroll didn't say. But the next day, I went to Ser Willem and told him, 'I will require a sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.' That was when I decided to become a knight."

"So you thought you were this Prince?"

Rhaegar laughed.

"I was young and proud and foolish. Now I know that that's about as likely as the trees granting you answers to your prayers."

He joined her on the ground, and they both stared up at the weeping tree. Lyanna moved closer to him, and he felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. A strange prickling sensation was taking over his body. He closed the distance between them so that her shoulder rested against his side. His arm stretched behind her, and she lightly rested against it.

He felt her eyes on him. Her pupils had enlarged in the darkness, and the black was almost eclipsing the grey. His own eyes darkened with lust and desire.

"Maybe the gods have been sending me answers, and I just haven't been listening."

Her voice came out as a whisper, barely audible in the still air. She was looking at him as though she was trying to figure something out. He stared back, suddenly breathless at how close her face was.

"Or maybe, I just wasn't praying for the right thing."

Her voice was quieter still, and to hear her, he had to lean in so that their noses were almost touching.

"Ever since I found out about Robert, I begged the gods not to make me marry him, and yet, our betrothal held. The night of the feast, when I heard you sing, I prayed that I wouldn't be cursed with a life devoid of love or passion."

She never looked away from him. She was burning with a strange intensity, her mind seemingly made up.

"That was the night I met you."

He cupped her face in his hands and ran his thumbs back and forth over her cheeks. They were both holding their breath.

Then, he just stopped thinking. The red of the forest faded. All of his doubts faded. There was only Lyanna as he brought his lips hungrily to hers.

* * *

**Alrighty there it is...I have half of the next chapter written, and I want to say it will be up tonight, but that's what I said last time, and it didn't work out. So maybe tonight, definitely tomorrow!**

**Thanks for all the favs/follows/reviews you guys! This story doesn't always come easy, so it's nice to have your support! xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

**GRRM owns the characters and ASOIAF. I do not! I don't write this for profit...just for fun!**

* * *

Lyanna was everywhere. Her skirts spilled around them as she pulled herself into his lap. He was overwhelmed by the scent of her: earthy sweetness mixed with roses. She threaded her fingers through his hair, and her grip was all he was aware of. She met his kiss eagerly, her body all willing submission as it melted against his. He was consumed by her, intoxicated by her. They picked up an easy rhythm. His hands guided her hips as they spiraled against his. They pressed desperately to each other, pouring all of their desire and need into one another.

He bit her bottom lip, teasing and pulling it as she moaned in excruciating pleasure. She parted her lips to him, and she let him in easily. He moved a hand to her face, pressing her cheek and pulling her urgently to him. They pressed tightly together, but it still wasn't enough. He wanted to get at _her_, past her physical body and through to her essence, her soul. He wanted to consume her, become a part of her, feel their bodies truly become one.

She traced his lips with his tongue, and he groaned. His hand slid from her hip to cup her bottom, and he lifted her so she was settled over him. She gasped when she felt his hardness beneath her. Her hands came up to his chest and pushed him lightly to the ground, positioning herself above him. Her hand softly caressed his face, and her lips became more pleading against his. He ran his hands the length of her back and then brought them around to brush the bottom of her breasts. The touch was exhilarating, even through the fabric of her dress, and he felt her breathing hitch at the contact.

His hands slid down to her waist, and he lifted her slightly before moving her so that she was underneath him. Her white dress splayed across the ground, and he pushed the skirt up to stroke her thigh, gently tracing circles higher and higher up her leg. Her hands were on his chest again, but this time, she pushed him away, her eyes resolute and her mouth stilling beneath his.

He leaned away from her so that he was kneeling. He stood and held out a hand, but she was already pushing herself off of the ground and bringing herself to a standing position. He came to stand beside her and rested a hand lightly on the small of her back. She pulled his arm more firmly around her and played with his fingers as they walked. She had a troubled expression on her face that matched his own stormy thoughts.

When they reached the edge of the forest, she broke away from him. She walked over to a nearby tree and pressed her hand against its trunk. She stayed there for a while, and Rhaegar wondered if she was thanking the gods for their gift or begging for them to take it back.

* * *

Arthur Dayne stood on the shore, concern coloring his dark eyes as he watched his prince return with the Stark girl. _Eddard Stark was right to be concerned_, he thought as he watched them sail closer. He stood in the shadows, still unnoticed by the pair. They arrived at shore, and he leapt from the boat in one powerful movement. Without his help, she nimbly climbed out, flashing him a quick smile.

She had a wild beauty about her, and it was augmented by her current state of dishevelment. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he took in her mussed hair and ruffled skirts. There was a faint blush across her cheeks, and Rhaegar was looking at her with indigo eyes, darkened with lust. They moved closer to one another, and he was indignant to see the way the prince's hands rested easily on her waist and how it made her arch into him. He was struck by how natural they appeared together and how perfectly they seemed to fit.

When Rhaegar was with Princess Elia, they were stiff and uncomfortable. They never touched, and when they spoke, it was with a polite indifference, as though they were speaking to someone they had just met. Rhaegar was a dutiful and kind husband, but he was not himself with her. Arthur noticed the way his friend's eyes would glaze over when he was with her, and he saw the way her frailness repulsed him.

Rhaegar was a powerful man with a good heart, but he couldn't stand to see weakness in others. He had a compulsion to fix things and make them better, and to him, sickness was a thing that needed to be pruned away. With his wife disintegrating before his eyes and his father's mind withering in madness, Rhaegar was surrounded by things he couldn't fix, and it ate away at him. In Rhaegar's moribund world, Lyanna was a welcome glimpse of vitality and strength.

Arthur stepped before them, startling them apart. His mouth was set into a hard disapproving line, and his eyes were narrowed in judgment. The prince stepped in front of the girl, but she only gave an annoyed frown before moving to stand beside him. Arthur bowed slightly before addressing his prince.

"Your Grace, Princess Elia sent me to find you."

It was not true, but he wanted to remind the both of them that Rhaegar had a wife. His words had the desired effect. Lyanna stiffened, and Rhaegar saw a flash of the wolf in her eyes.

For his part, Rhaegar wanted to speak with his friend alone. He wanted to explain himself, and more importantly, he wanted to ensure that Arthur wouldn't do anything to put Lyanna in danger. He nudged her toward her horse, but she didn't budge. He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. She stared stubbornly back, her jaw set and her shoulders thrown back defiantly.

"Lyanna. Go back to your tent."

He spoke in iron tones that she had never heard him use before. She did not dare directly defy the prince in front of a member of the Kingsguard. She moved unwillingly to stand beside her horse, but she did not mount it. Her eyes were hard as she watched him, challenged him.

Swiftly, he came over to her and grabbed her around the waist. He lifted her effortlessly and set her on the horse sidesaddle. Her body was rigid and calm, save for the fury distilled in her eyes. They looked at each other, silently arguing. They broke away after a moment, and she swung a leg over the other side so that she was straddling the horse. She galloped back through town without looking back.

* * *

"Nothing happened."

Rhaegar was looking at him openly, and Arthur half-believed him.

"I have no right to judge, Your Grace. I only serve the crown."

Rhaegar frowned.

"Elia did not send you. I am rarely with her, and she never wonders where I am. You are my dearest friend. You may speak plainly with me."

Arthur sighed, already knowing that Rhaegar would not want to hear what he had to say.

"Ned Stark came to me earlier today. He is worried about you and his sister, and he thought that I might be able to make you see sense.

"What you are doing is dangerous. Your father cannot know that you are carrying on with a lady of Winterfell. He already thinks you are trying to usurp the throne, and if he finds about this, he will accuse you of trying to form an alliance with the North to rise against him."

"That's nonsensical!"

Arthur sighed heavily.

"That's your father."

"I don't care about my father.

"But I take it that you do care about this girl?"

Rhaegar nodded.

"Then think of her. If you two are discovered, you can more easily walk away than she can. You are going to ruin her forever if you keep this up, and then no man will take her."

"I don't want any man to take her."

"You have a wife. And you have a daughter. And you have a duty to uphold. If you care about this girl at all, you will let her go, or this is going to destroy you both."

Rhaegar turned his back on his friend and threw himself on top of his horse. He charged away, his anger throbbing with the pounding of the horse's motions.

* * *

Ned was on her bed, looking tired and sad. She did not want to face him tonight. They sighed at the same time.

"Ned, I don't want to keep having this fight."

"Then please, listen to me one last time, and I swear, it will be the last time you hear about it from me."

Lyanna regarded him for a beat before nodding for him to continue.

"Whatever is happening with the prince, and whatever has already happened with the prince, please, let it go. It is only fleeting. He is going to leave you, and you are going to forget about him. This is just your rebellion against father and against Robert, but it's only really going to hurt you in the end."

"This is different, Ned, this is real. I can feel it when I'm with him."

"No. It cannot last. There is no way for you two. You will never really have him. All you have is the Stark name, and you need to uphold it."

"My name is forfeit when I marry Robert anyway, and I will never claim Baratheon. _That's_ not my identity. My identity is who I am: it's my thoughts and my feelings and my convictions, and Rhaegar is a part of that now; he is a part of me."

Ned shook his head, and his grey eyes were cloudy and threatening to cry. Her mind was made up, and he knew better than to fight her. He pulled her into a hug, strangely feeling as though he was telling her goodbye.

* * *

That night, her dreams were as twisted as her stomach, and she tossed and turned restlessly.

_Robert, Ned, and Rhaegar surrounded her, their eyes all trained on her. She was much smaller than the rest of them, and she seemed to shrink further under their gaze. Their eyes were wide and expressionless. They began spinning around her. Blue. Grey. Purple. Blue. Grey. Purple. Blue, grey, purple. Blue, grey, purple. blue grey purple. blue grey purple. bluegreypurple. bluegreypurple. _

_Black._

* * *

**I promise they won't be at the tourney for much longer! I didn't mean for it to stretch out this long, but I just love putting in the smaller scenes between the characters. I especially love Ned and his relationship with Lyanna...**

**I was pleasantly surprised and so flattered by the reviews for this, so thank you guys! xxx**


	10. Chapter 10

**This one didn't come easy, and there were a lot of perspectives I had to cover. You get some Robert thoughts, the poor, clueless soul...**

**I'm trying really hard to make Lyanna and Rhaegar's love story more complex than just the tragic and forbidden soul mate story. I wasn't sure if it translated, but y'alls comments proved me wrong! You're kind of supposed to hate them a little while still rooting for them. They're hurting so many people and putting a lot at stake here!**

**Anyways, as always, GRRM gets the credit for the characters and ASOIAF. I'm writing this for pure pleasure and not profit.**

* * *

Roaring in frustration, Brandon threw down his helm and charged toward the dragon prince, the fury coming off of him in waves. Echoing him, Robert yelled angrily. Ned, looking chagrinned, laid a hand on his friend's arm, trying to calm him.

"The prince won in all fairness, Robert. Please don't antagonize my brother further."

Robert balked at being told what to do and shrugged out of Ned's grip. Grumpily, he watched as Brandon approached Rhaegar with his eyes blazing. He glanced over at Lyanna and saw her eyes shining.

_How sweet, she weeps for her brother's loss_, he thought fondly.

Affectionately, he brought a hand to her cheek. She stiffened instantly at the contact.

_Always so modest_. He smiled ruefully and massaged her cheek before leaning over and kissing her on the side of the head. He patted her hair tenderly.

"Don't worry, sweet one. The prince will surely lose to Arthur Dayne, and that will be vengeance enough for Brandon."

"He shouldn't let his temper overpower his sense." She nodded disapprovingly at Brandon's anger that was on full display on the field. Robert chortled.

"The Wild Wolf cannot be tamed!"

"She's right. He is too quick to rise. He will get himself in trouble with his ill humor." Mouth set into a grim line, Ned watched his brother with apprehension. The gathered crowd seemed to share Ned's unease. They watched in grim silence as Rhaegar tried to calm his defeated competitor. Violet eyes darted up to find Lyanna in the crowd.

"Ned, it appears that the dragon prince is looking to you for help in controlling your brother!" Laughing heartily, Robert didn't notice the strange looks he attracted from his companions.

Suddenly aware of the tension in the air, Brandon collected himself, and sparing one last disparaging look at the silver-haired prince, he left the field in resentment and disgrace.

* * *

Lyanna breathed easier as she watched her brother retreat. She was glad Rhaegar had won, but she had feared Brandon's wrath. He was quicker to anger and harder to calm than she, and she was loath to see a feud start between Houses Stark and Targaryen.

Chafing at Robert's presence, she tried to ignore his boisterous laughter and unruly comportment. Obtuse as always, he had failed to notice her obvious preference for the prince and the shared looks the two had had all day.

Her cheeks turned a deep scarlet as she thought about the kiss she and Rhaegar had shared the night before. It had awakened in her a passion she had never before known. She twisted the fabric of skirt tightly in her hand, a flush creeping up her neck.

Taking her bright eyes and coquettish smile as enjoyment at one of his jokes, Robert threw an arm around her to include her in the laughter. She tried to not resist him as he carried on with Ned while firmly holding her in the confinement of his embrace.

At his touch, the effervescent joy soiled in her stomach and gave way to other misgivings. Reckless as she was, she was not rash enough to think that she and Rhaegar could ride off together and abandon their lives and responsibilities. He did, after all, have a family.

Lyanna watched as Rhaegar rode over to his wife and exchanged a few words with her. It was the first day the Dornish woman had been present at the jousting, as her delicate health often prevented her from making public appearance.

Jealousy bubbled dangerously in Lyanna's stomach. It was easier to accept Princess Elia's existence when she was a mere abstraction. As a flesh-and-blood person, she was far less palatable. Lyanna had of course known that Rhaegar was married, but he rarely spoke of his wife, and she had just assumed that she was of no more consequence to him than one of his servants. As she watched them now and saw how attentive and kind he was, Lyanna wondered if Rhaegar did not truly love his wife.

She felt a betrayal she knew she had no right to feel. She had no claim to the prince. And yet, she felt such an intimate connection to him that she feared what would happen if they were to be rifted apart. Narrowing her eyes, she pushed away the urge to run across the field and pull Rhaegar's attention away from the sloe-eyed woman and onto her.

Unbidden, a deep hatred coursed through her for this woman she had never met. Lyanna's eyes widened, and she felt equal parts ashamed and alarmed at her sudden violent feelings.

"I hate him too."

Lyanna jumped a foot as Brandon's voice burst out from beside her and broke through her dark thoughts. Without her notice, he had joined his family to watch the rest of the jousting. Mistaking her ire at his wife as revulsion for Rhaegar, he nodded over at the prince. His eyes were sullen with resentment.

"You're just bitter that you embarrassed yourself in front of Ashara Dayne!" Robert thundered from beside them.

Both Stark siblings rolled their eyes at his words.

"_Ned's_ the one who cares what the Dayne girl thinks of him." Brandon's voice was steady but not quite convincing.

"Well, Ned's not the one whose tent I saw her leaving the other night!" Clearly oblivious to the pain on Ned's face and the fury on Brandon's, Robert laughed heartily, holding his stomach. Lyanna surveyed him with unparalleled disgust as he wiped the mirth from his eyes.

She glanced over to where Ashara sat with Princess Elia. With dark purple eyes, high cheekbones, and exotic features, the Dayne girl far surpassed her princess in looks. In fact, Rhaegar's wife looked positively lackluster when her dreary gaze, ashen complexion, and lank curls were offered in direct comparison. Rather than relishing Elia's deficiencies, Lyanna found herself pitying the woman.

"Ashara told me that the princess is expecting another baby," Brandon remarked, trying to change the subject.

Where Robert had no reaction to the news, Lyanna was brimming over with emotion. As though sensing the heat of her glare, the dragon prince again glanced up at her. He was so startled by her seething glare that he almost dropped his wife's favor that she had handed to him only moments before.

* * *

Sick. Lyanna felt sick. She paced the floor, lividness quickening her pace to the point that she couldn't see straight. Flopping on her bed, she tried to ignore the way the world was spinning out of control. Vaguely, she heard Ned's voice saying her name. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting away the angry nausea that was the only thing more potent than her hopelessness. His warm presence was both comforting and unwelcome as she felt it settle near her.

"I tried to warn you, dearest one. And I'm sorry to see you hurt, but it's better that you see reality now. If this had gone on much longer, you could be facing circumstances far more dire than just a wounded ego."

A disbelieving eye cracked open in his direction.

"This goes beyond bruised feelings, Ned. This is a broken heart." She heard his sigh but continued on. "I'm not saying I don't deserve this, because I do. This is poetic punishment, to be sure. I condemned Robert for his wandering eye and encouraged it in Rhaegar. Of course I am the only one the worse off for this. The gods can rest easy now because I have learned my lesson."

Silence stretched between them.

"You never learn, Lyanna. You are too stubborn for your own good. You will taste the bitterness of consequences for a lifetime if it means you get a few moments of sweetness. It worries me what you're willing to throw away for him. Even now, I can see it in you that you haven't given up on him yet."

"_Yet_," she repeated grimly.

* * *

Silence on the walk from her tent. Silence in the dark. Her eyes shone white.

Moonlight fell on them, revealing her face, hard as stone. He moved cautiously around her. He had learned from his father how to approach thinly contained rage. It was how you'd approach a wounded animal: slowly, with no sudden movements. He waited for her to speak first.

"What do you want?"

"You're angry."

He saw a flicker of fire pass through her eyes before she quickly subdued it.

"You're astute."

"You have a reason?"

"You have a wife—"

"Don't act like you didn't know—"

"—who's going to have a baby."

"Oh."

His one word seemed to stretch between them and create a void.

"I don't love her."

"I don't care." She paused, suddenly incensed. "You're lying!"

"I thought you didn't care."

"I care that you parade her around and dote on her in public and hide me away like I'm dirty and unsavory and shameful!"

"It's an act Lyanna! It's all an act! What you see in the public eye is the extent of our affection. We do not speak, we do not touch, we d—"

"—You created that baby!"

"A baby born of necessity and not of love. House Targaryen stands on very uncertain ground. It is withering in strength and power. My father has shaken my family to its core. His sickness is all-pervading, and it comes down on my shoulders to cure it. I will repair his damage and rebuild. And once the kingdom is at peace, House Targaryen will rise again. The iron throne will pass to my heir.

"I need a son. If Elia carries a boy within her, I swear to you, I will never lay with her again. My heart and body will be yours, faithfully and forever."

"Words. Those are words, and nothing more. There is no future for us—especially not one built upon your false promises and empty words."

"And here, I thought you were a fighter."

"There is nothing here to fight for."

Angrily, he pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss. Her fists fought against him for but a moment before softening into beseeching caresses. As they broke apart, he noted with satisfaction that his was not the only uneven breathing.

"_That_ is nothing?"

She didn't say anything, but he saw in her eyes the slightest hint of concession. Bolstered by her lack of opposition, he continued on.

"My life belongs to you, dear one. My devotion is at your disposal, and my happiness will only come from you. I can't leave Elia any more than you can refuse Robert. But it doesn't matter because we didn't choose _them_, we chose _us_. No matter who we are with, we will only belong to each other.

"I will fight for this, fight for us, fight for _you_, every day of my life. Tomorrow, I will ride for you."

A single tear shone on her face in the moonlight. He wiped it away before bringing her hand to his lips.

"Will you grant me your favor, my lady?"

She produced a small white handkerchief. In delicate blue embroidery, a rose blossomed upon it. He smiled down at it as she left him alone in the dark. Caressing it against his cheek, he took in her scent and held it dearer than life itself.

* * *

**This story is a joy to write, and I gotta say, your reviews are proving invaluable and oh so helpful!**

**I seriously appreciate y'all...so much! xxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I don't write this for profit!**

* * *

Even now, she doubted him. Uneasily, she watched him charge down Ser Barristan. He was completely overtaken by the overwhelming screams of the crowd, and Lyanna felt herself become swept up in the frenzy.

Heart hammering, face flushed, she watched as Rhaegar took up the crown that was the circlet of blue roses. His violet eyes were stormy and conflicted as they found hers. When his gaze locked with hers, his qualms melted away, and he straightened his shoulders and galloped toward her in hard determination.

Tension tightened in her throat as he passed by his wife without a second glance. The crowd began to quiet in confusion. Whispers picked up where there were once screams. He drew level with her. She didn't realize she had stood up until she felt Ned tugging her hand and urging her to sit back down. Shaking him off impatiently, she felt her breath catch.

Blusteringly, Robert looked around, utterly confounded. He was gaping up at Lyanna and looking between her and Rhaegar; he was so completely dumbfounded that he could find no words. Lyanna could hear angry buzzing as the crowd grew louder.

Where her hands were shaking, his were steady as they held the crown above her. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned forward. Their chests were rising and falling with labored breathing in the small amount of space between their bodies.

Hundreds of narrowed eyes grew wide as they watched the dragon prince and the wolf maid. Awestricken by the intensity of the pair, the spectators collectively held their breath.

He lowered the crown and settled it above her brow, his eyes burning out of his somber face.

* * *

"Queen of Love and Beauty. How apt that you crowned her."

Rhaegar said nothing, knowing that he deserved whatever abuses she would hurl at him. But Elia said nothing more; she merely stared at him shrewdly, her hand resting almost accusingly on her slightly protruding stomach.

Her body was wasting away, but her mind was sharp as ever. She saw straight through him, just as she always did. When he had first married her, he'd imagined that he could come to love her, but that was before Lyanna.

Their years of marriage had not been kind to them. The time had robbed them of their affection for one another, and most days, they hardly talked—let alone looked—at each other.

Rhaegar sighed and looked at his wife. She smiled back sadly.

"When did we stop talking to each other?"

She studied him carefully for a moment before answering.

"I think it was when we stopped lying to ourselves."

He considered the palms of his hands, watching the way the lines twisted and crossed and formed infinitely smaller cracks.

"I'm no fool, Rhaegar. I know there is no love left between us. There is only this." With limp hands, she gestured to her slowly growing stomach.

"I learned how to live without you long ago. You tried so hard to cure me, and when you couldn't, you abandoned me. Then, you moved on to your next doomed cause: your father. I lost you to his madness same as you lost him to it.

"I understand her appeal. She's beautiful and young and strong. So different from this sad and broken life here. She's your escape from all of this. And I'm not letting you go, but I won't hold on to you either.

"You've given me the greatest loves of my life. You've given me my children."

Standing heavily, Rhaegar crossed the distance between them that had seemed to grow by gulfs in the last few minutes. He knelt beside her and brought his lips to her belly. He mouthed words to the child that Elia could not hear. With tears threatening to spill, she looked unseeingly in front of her, threading her fingers carefully through his hair.

He rose and regarded her, desolation written clearly on his face. Long after he left, she could feel his touch tingling on her skin.

* * *

Lyanna moved through the celebratory feast, strangely untouched by the festivities. Her crown had been quickly discarded under Robert's disgruntled stare, but she still felt the weight of it there.

Before everyone, Rhaegar had claimed her. The thought seized her with simultaneous fear and overwhelming joy.

Robert was drunk, again. Ruddy-faced and uncontrollable, he lunged at his betrothed. His face was pulled into a grotesque expression in the candlelight, and his handsome features were slack from alcohol.

"Our wedding feast will be even grander than this!" he slurred at her before stumbling away.

Her lip curled in disgust. Her wedding night would be a never-ending nightmare. Robert would likely be drunk as he took her the first time. His drunken snores and drool would be her companions forevermore. It would be the perfect beginning to their loveless life.

She sensed purple eyes watching her in the half-light. Discarding her caution, she slipped through the hordes of people to stand at his side. She felt the warmth of his arms as they encircled her. Leading him out of the hall, Lyanna glanced around to make sure no one was watching. She met Ned's gaze briefly, but he only looked pointedly at Robert.

Looking at her betrothed only strengthened her resolve to give Rhaegar that which Robert didn't deserve. Tonight, he was going to take her maidenhead.

* * *

**I think we all know what's coming...**

**Another chapter should (hopefully) be up later tonight. If not, it will be up early tomorrow!**

**Again, I cannot say enough how amazing y'all are. Thanks for everything!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I wrote most of this in class over the last couple of days, and I can't tell you how many times I started and restarted this. At last, here it is!**

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I write this for fun and not for profit!**

* * *

Elia was haunting Rhaegar. Everything she'd said had been deliberate and calculating, and even though he knew that, her words still resonated with him. His conscious weighed heavy as he thought about his wife and children and all that he owed them. He thought about his father and the iron throne and what he owed the kingdom. It all fell to him. Everything was crumbling, and some days, he felt as though holding it all together was going to break him apart.

Tired. Rhaegar was tired. He could feel the pressure mounting and constantly growing heavier. The weight that fell upon his shoulders was enough to crush an ordinary man. But Rhaegar was not an ordinary man; he couldn't be. He had been born into a legacy that demanded that he be exceptional. His was the blood of the dragon. Sighing, he thought about his father's legacy. Once a great leader, Aerys had since gone to seed as madness devoured him.

_Perhaps that was the Targaryen birthright: ingenuity consumed by insanity_, he thought bitterly. Though he was loath to admit it, Rhaegar lived in utter terror of the day when his mind would turn against him, and when he too would argue with shadows. Not every member of his family turned out that way, he knew, but the latent fear would still gnaw at him day and night. Sometimes, he wondered if he would bring about his own sickness that way.

His wife—who should have been a source of solace and comfort—only served as a reminder of his powerlessness. Her frailty was a physical manifestation of the mental softness he sensed was constantly lying in wait and threatening to overtake him. Weakness terrified him.

There was only one person from whom he drew strength. He looked down at the beautiful girl leading him determinedly through the night.

In Lyanna, he saw endless possibilities stretched out before him, possibilities that would have existed had he been allowed to have dreams, possibilities that were dead to him now. Not for the first time, Rhaegar wondered what he expected from her. They couldn't have a future together, and yet, the only time he had hope was when he was with her.

As they entered her tent, he felt the familiar tinges of guilt and doubt, but they were peripheral emotions, ones that quickly melted away in the face of the all-consuming desire her felt for her. She pushed him onto the bed, and his hands came around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

As her body crashed into his, Rhaegar was struck by how desperately he wanted to escape into her and lose himself within her. Their lips hovered, barely apart. They were on the cusp of giving in, and both understood that their actions tonight would mark their course in one direction or the other. Tiny hands gripped his shoulders tightly, pulling him near. Her knees were on either side of his hips, anchoring her against him.

He moved ever closer, and she was quick to close the distance. Their lips met, and they tumbled over the edge. The kiss was slow and tender and excruciating. Grey eyes bore into violet, the gaze more intense than the physical contact.

Bringing his hands to her face, his fingers gripped her cheeks so tightly, he feared he would leave bruises. Despite his concerns, he found himself terrified to let her go. He was struck suddenly by how much he needed her.

Clothes flowed to the floor, pooling on the ground. He slid into her, and she cried out softly. Capturing her mouth with his, he stifled more moans, absorbing her breaths into his own lungs. They sat facing one another, neither looking away as they thrust slowly into each other, clenching painfully, needing dreadfully.

Dragging his fingers down her back, he savored the feel of her body against his and relished the way her bare breasts pressed upon his chest. Her knees, at first wrapped around him, now drew up against his sides, pressing hard into him as her pleasure built. Toes curling under, fingers gripping his shoulder blades, she broke the kiss to bury her head into his neck.

His breath came out in short bursts as he kissed every bare inch of her skin he could reach. Shivering, shuddering, and shaking, they found their release, and he felt himself flowing into her. There was a wetness in the crook of his neck, and it was the same wetness that poured down his cheeks and into her hair.

He left her grudgingly and with a heavy heart, dropping a light kiss on her bare shoulder, leaving her in the darkness.

* * *

Feeling him lay down beside her, Elia tried not to hate him. She knew where he'd been, just as she knew that he would come back to her. Her heart broke as she realized that less and less of him would always return to her. While his body was next to her, the rest was left behind with the Stark girl.

She had let him go because he was gone, anyway. Curling into herself, she brought her hands to her stomach. Her children would be the only part of Rhaegar that she would ever be able to hold on to. She clung to them as she let him slip away.

* * *

Lyanna heard the tent flap rustle, and she snapped up, her heart soaring into her throat. But it was only Robert, blinking at her drunkenly in the grey dawn light. She shifted uncomfortably in her sheets; she didn't want Robert in the same room as her betrayal.

He was glowering at something on her trunk, his deep blue eyes struggling to focus. Seeing that it was the crown of roses, Lyanna felt her guilt multiply.

"He's a damn fool. Riding around, winning tourneys, crowning other men's betrothed. All while his father tortures innocents and punishes the kingdom for plots only he can see. Westeros is burning, and the king is the one setting the fires."

Staying silent, Lyanna wondered where this was going. She was surprised at the turn his tirade had taken; she hadn't realized Robert was politically minded.

"The time of the Targaryens is passing. The talk is getting louder. The dragons have long been dead."

His speech was disjointed and confused, but with growing dread, Lyanna realized what he was saying. It was treason. And it was rebellion. And she had just given him one more reason to hate House Targaryen. Lyanna hoped desperately that his ramblings were only the drunken thoughts of a single man and not the sinister plots of a growing rebel force.

Glancing at him, she realized that she hardly knew her betrothed, and the thought filled her with singular terror. Robert's eyes, once blazing, had since glazed over as he smiled happily at her. Seizing the crown, he laid it on her head with satisfaction.

"I crown you _my_ Queen of Love and Beauty."

He bestowed a sloppy kiss upon her before lying down on the ground beneath her bed. His snores vibrated through the air. Lyanna was shaken to the core.

* * *

**It is at this point that the story becomes AU as I fill in the blanks between the events in Robert's Rebellion. I think I'm switching this to M, not necessarily because this is going to become explicit, but because it's going to start dealing with some heavier themes.**

**THANK YOU to everyone who has been following this and reviewing this. I would enjoy writing this a whole lot less without you! xxx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Another short, transitional one.**

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I don't write this for profit!**

* * *

She rose with the sun, her eyes fluttering open and darting around. She remembered where she was and what she had done. Her stare rested on Robert, and in his presence, she felt wrested from happier dreams.

A heaviness settled over Lyanna. There was a dull ache below her waist, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her chest. Thinking about the night before, she tried to process everything she was feeling. Now more than ever, she was sure that she didn't want to be with Robert for the rest of her life. But she couldn't have Rhaegar.

Trunks were packed, and plans were made, and he was leaving with his wife today just as she was leaving with her brothers. Now that he'd had her, she wondered if he was done with her. She couldn't bring herself to regret her actions. It had been one of the few decisions in her life that she had been able to make for herself, and she didn't doubt her choice at all.

She shivered as she remembered the intensity of his gaze and the overpowering gentleness he had displayed. What they had done transcended normal connection. In those moments, she had been completely overtaken by him, and she understood the _essence_ of him. Violet eyes had haunted her dreams, dancing and winking and always out of reach.

With a sigh that mingled between bliss and sorrow, she closed her eyes and remembered everything that had passed between them.

A horrifying thought occurred to her, and she leapt up and whipped back the sheets. Thankfully, they were clean, and there was no sign of blood. A sigh of relief burst from her. She had a lifetime of riding horses to thank for that, she supposed.

She trembled in the cold air. Now that she had forced herself from the warm embrace of her bed, she couldn't go back. Instead, she paced her tent, her thoughts flying faster than her feet. Robert's snores grated on her nerves, and she resisted the urge to kick him as she passed him. She thanked the gods that her maid hadn't been in yet. She couldn't imagine how she would explain the man passed out on her floor.

"Lyanna?"

Ned's voice made her jump a foot as it broke through the tranquil morning air. Throwing a cloak over her shoulders, she opened the flap to reveal his concerned face. He took her in, his eyes resting on the mantle draped around her. A gasp stuck in her throat when she realized it was Rhaegar's, forgotten and left last night.

He said nothing as he entered her tent. A frown settled over his brow as he stared down at his best friend. For the first time, Lyanna was grateful for Robert's presence. With him in the room, Ned wouldn't dare broach the topic of her and the prince. Grey eyes watched her cautiously and sadly instead. She stared defiantly back, but he only shook his head.

They stood on opposite sides of Robert's prone body.

"Robert and I leave for the Eyrie today. Brandon is going to Barrowtown before heading to Riverrun to marry Catelyn Tully. Benjen is going home to Winterfell. You, sweet sister, are staying here."

_And Rhaegar is going to King's Landing with his wife_.

The words, both spoken and unspoken, hung in the air between them.

"I guess this is goodbye, Ned."

* * *

Walking over the sloped ground, Rhaegar caught sight of her, standing morosely beside her brother. Her hair was curling freely and fighting to escape the pins holding it in place. As she caught sight of him, her cheeks flushed prettily in the early morning light. Her brightness cut through the fog and mist. He increased his pace so that he could reach her faster.

She was staying, and he was leaving. His heart swelled, and he realized that he couldn't tell her goodbye. An impulse seized him, and before he could think it through, he grabbed her hand and held it close to his heart.

"My lady, have you ever seen King's Landing before?"

Wonder building in her eyes, she wordlessly shook her head.

"Well that's a shame, to be sure. Luckily for you, my wife and I would like to ask you to stay with us there."

Catching the alarmed way Ned's head swiveled in his direction, he quickly amended the offer.

"Your brother and your…betrothed…would of course be included in this invitation."

Before Ned could speak, Lyanna quickly nodded. Rhaegar kissed her hand and was gone. His joy was fleeting as he left her. His father may have become infamous for his love of burning people, but Rhaegar knew he was playing with a completely different kind of fire.

* * *

"Lyanna, this is a bad idea."

_A bad idea, a bad idea, a bad idea, a bad idea_, the horses hooves seemed to chant as they rode away from Harrenhal.

Lyanna felt the truth of her brother's words, and she had seen it reflected in the princess's eyes earlier as they had prepared to go. Elia had a reputation for being kind and gentle, but Lyanna had seen none of the sweetness in her cold glare. She knew she had awakened a ferocity in the woman that no one else knew existed.

She wondered what other dormant dangers she would unknowingly incite now she and Rhaegar were on this path.

_A bad idea, a bad idea, a bad idea, a bad idea_.

* * *

**Of course all these bad feelings and ill portents occur on unlucky chapter 13!**

**Things are about to get intense, so enjoy the relative calm while you can! xxx**


	14. Chapter 14

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I do not write this for profit!**

* * *

Ned heard Lyanna's sigh as they yet again pulled to a halt. Their progress to King's Landing had been slow because of the frequent stops they made for Elia's sake, but only Robert and Lyanna seemed to mind the sluggish pace. The rest of the men, Rhaegar included, were patient and indulgent with the princess. She appeared to be a gracious and gentle soul, and Rhaegar's men liked her well for it.

She had been bedridden following the birth of her first child, and she didn't seem to be faring well with the second pregnancy, either. Ned worried for the woman. She was frail and thin, and she leaned heavily on her husband for support.

Restlessly, Robert wandered away from the group, grumbling about a waste of time. Lyanna joined her brother with narrowed eyes, but for once, her ire wasn't directed at her betrothed, but at Rhaegar's wife. Side by side, the two of them watched the royal couple. The prince was affectionate and gentle with her, caressing her face and whispering to her with a soft smile playing about his lips.

Lyanna's eyes were stormy as she turned to regard him.

"Rhaegar told me that this was all a façade. He said he didn't really love his wife and that they were just together out of duty to the throne. But _that_ doesn't look like an act to me."

She jerked her chin in their direction. Ned's eyes were soft and grey as fog as he stared sadly at his sister.

"It may not be passionate love, but he _does_ care for her. There will always be a part of him that remains devoted to her. They've been married for years, and they have children together. Such things form connections. That bond will always hold them together."

"Robert has no devotion to the countless women _he_ bedded."

Ned sighed. He loved Robert, but he could be thoughtless at times. He always meant well, but he also loved a good time, and he never thought about the impact of his actions. Ned didn't want to admit it, but Rhaegar had certain qualities that Robert lacked.

"The prince is different," he ceded unwillingly.

Lyanna looked strangely victorious at his words. Two sets of grey eyes watched the dragon prince, one shining and the other clouded with worry.

* * *

"Have they arrived yet?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Prince Rhaegar and his wife have returned with two Starks and a Baratheon in tow."

Aerys' lip curled.

"What could he want with them?"

"They are likely part of the prince's plots against you, Your Grace. But I have eyes everywhere, and we'll keep close watch over them. That's why you ordered them here; so we can keep them close. We command the secrets and the shadows, Your Grace. Nothing will escape us."

* * *

Lyanna sat in her bedchamber, finally alone. Rubbing her shoulders, she rolled her neck and took deep, calming breaths. The dread she'd felt building on the journey had come crashing down around her as she'd entered the Red Keep. There was a seething, unseen pressure here, and she could feel the scrutiny coming at her from all sides.

Both Princess Elia and Arthur Dayne had watched her and Rhaegar persistently. She'd hardly gotten to speak to the prince the entire time they were travelling. The distance from him worried her; she didn't want to be forgotten or discarded.

The time without the prince had meant time _with_ Robert, and his boastful and obnoxious presence had been more than she could stomach. In truth, that wasn't the only thing that she hadn't been able to stomach; everything she'd eaten had made her queasy, and the nauseous feeling had persisted long after they'd arrived in King's Landing.

Even now, she still felt faintly sick. As she looked in the mirror across from her, she noticed that her face was wan and her eyes were dim. Running a hand across her face, she traced the dark circles under her eyes.

She rose when she heard a slight rapping on the door and opened it, heart lifting. But it was only Ned, looking at her cautiously. Warily, she let him in, and he settled on her bed.

"I have to admit, I'm relieved to see you alone."

"What does that mean?"

"You and the prince are inseparable. You always seem to find your way back to one another."

"The princess certainly made sure that wasn't the case when we were coming here. She despises me, Ned."

"Your guilt is making you imagine things. She's a kind and fragile soul. There is not enough in her to despise someone."

"I saw it in her eyes. She resents me. Rhaegar told me that she knows about us, and that she didn't fight him on it. But I know she's dragging him back to her with guilt. It's destroying him. She'll never let him go, but he's not hers anymore."

"The prince is not a cruel man. He is also not undutiful. You've heard the stories about him, how he loves the legends of knights and heroes and how he believes he is one of them. A hero doesn't shirk his responsibilities. He will never leave his wife, Lya."

"I'm not expecting him to," she snapped.

"Then what _are_ you expecting?"

From the tired look on her face, he could tell that she had been asking herself the same question for a while.

"I don't know. I just feel like all of these decisions got away from me. Everything escalated so quickly, and the stakes are higher than I ever realized."

"Then walk away. Go back to the Whents. Marry Robert. Forget about the prince."

Lyanna looked away blankly. When she spoke again, her voice was tremulous but determined.

"I've made my choice, Ned."

"So change your mind!" Frustration erupted out of him, and he couldn't rein it back in. She was being reckless and she was being selfish, and Ned couldn't coddle her for any longer.

"You're not the only one affected by this. You're dragging me and Robert down this path, and this imprudence will not end well."

"And what about foolhardy Robert? He's got dangerous ideas that have given root to even more dangerous plans. He came to me rambling about the throne and the king, and it all sounded suspiciously like treason!"

"Aerys is mad, and Rhaegar does nothing! Robert sees this, and he wants change."

"So you agree with him, then? Are you going to ride into battle and crown him your new king?"

"My loyalty will always lie with the rightful king. These are dangerous times, Lyanna. Men do not want to follow madness. I'll not lie to you, little sister; there have been whispers of rebellion, and they're growing louder."

"Our brother is likely among them. I know Brandon hates the Targaryens, but do you?"

"Rhaegar is a good man. And he's a capable one. I have immense respect for him, but I can't condone what the two of you are doing."

"So are you with us or against us?"

"Don't do that Lyanna. Don't cast your lot with his."

"It's too late, Ned. I will always stand with him." She clutched her stomach and rocked back and forth. A terrible desire to see him propelled her from the room, leaving Ned sitting alone on her bed.

"It's too late," he repeated.

* * *

Screams and sobs echoed around the halls. Pleading followed, begging for an end to the torture. Jamie stared with dead eyes at the wall in front of him, trying to ignore the violence on the other side of the door he was guarding. Disgust curdled in his gut as he thought about how he was guarding the monster within the bedchamber instead of keeping it out.

His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. Knuckles white, teeth clenched, he longed to unsheathe it and cut down the mad man. Whimpering cut through the air, and Jamie thought that at last, it was over. Suddenly, a strangled sob erupted and morphed into a scream that transcended human suffering. It lingered in the air, shaking him to the bone.

He had just begun to loose his sword when a powerful hand landed on his wrist. Violet eyes bore into his own, and Jamie saw in them the same pain and anger there that was coursing through him. Despite the authority and control the prince seemed to exude, Jamie could feel a slight trembling in the grip that held him.

Rhaegar seemed about to say something when they both heard a slight rustling down the hall. Pale white and visibly shaking even from a distance, the Stark girl emerged from the shadows. She was slightly hunched over with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, and she looked as though she was going to be sick.

The screams still ripped through the air, and with every one that sounded, she seemed to shrink further into herself. Jamie felt Rhaegar's grip slacken as he stared at the girl with wide, horrified eyes. His hand fell away. With a vein jumping in his neck, the prince stalked over to her. Seizing her hand, he dragged her away from the grisly scene.

* * *

He led her down the halls, fury roiling within him. As his mother's screams faded into the darkness, Lyanna's gasps came into sharper focus. Though he could tell she was struggling, he pulled her harder, urging her to move faster. He was running, running away from the depravity.

They reached his room, and he all but flung her inside. He couldn't look at her. There was too much fear in her eyes.

"Did you hear them? Did you hear her screams? Ripped from her as my father raped her? And I didn't stop him. I never stop him. Because I can't. I'm powerless. He's going to kill her. He's going to kill me. He's going to kill us all."

He was coming apart. Sanity was a delicate thread in his mind, and it was unraveling. Ripping off his armor, he threw it to the ground. He had taken to wearing it now that he was at the heart of his father's power, but it didn't matter.

"This is worthless," he shouted as metal clanged to the floor. "It's all worthless. I'm worthless."

Trembling from head to toe, he clutched his head, trying to compress it into nothing. He felt trapped. In sorrow, he began collapsing into himself, falling to his knees. Soft hands began pulling at his, and he let his arms fall.

"Shh. Shh." Stroking his hair, she tried to calm him.

"His madness is catching Lyanna. I have it. I can feel it corroding my mind."

She captured his chin in her palm, and she pulled it up so her gaze was level with his. She was kneeling so close to him. He could see in her eyes that she was afraid for him and not of him.

"Shh. We're going to make it through this. You have withstood it for so long, and you have been carrying this burden alone. Even mountains crumble. It's okay to come undone."

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and she brought her hands to caress the back of his head. Fighting back tears, he brought his arms around her back and pulled her as close as she could come. His fingers dug into her skin as he clutched the only thing in the world that held him steady.

"I'm going to fix this," he vowed, his mouth tickling against her skin.

She said nothing. Still cradling his head, she rocked him back and forth, holding on tightly for them both.

* * *

**I changed this to M, just to be safe. Again, I don't plan on getting too explicit, but a lot of intense things are going to happen, so better safe than sorry!**

**Thanks for the favs/follows/reviews. Y'all are great xxx**


	15. Chapter 15

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I don't gain anything by this, and I don't write for profit!**

* * *

Even dead, the dragons were intimidating. The black of their empty eye sockets made her shiver as she stared into their depths. The heads towered above her, the fangs taller than she was. Even though the fire had long been extinguished, a heat seemed to radiate from them. There was power in these bones.

Lyanna wandered among the skulls, awe pulling her mouth and eyes wide. Head tilted back, she stared up at the giant beasts. Her mouth still hung open slightly, and she felt a strange sort of sadness as she gazed at them. The further she trailed down the line of dragons, the smaller they became, and as she reached the last of them, her chin had fallen so that she was looking down at the tiny skull.

She knew the last of the dragons had been a stunted, misshapen thing, but she hadn't expected it to be so pathetic. Her heart broke as she stared at its fragile form.

"Fascinating, isn't it? How titans tumble?"

Rhaegar strolled towards her, hands clasped behind his back. Looking far more composed than he had the night before, he smiled slightly at her, and she felt her heart pick up. His silver hair was sleek and in place, and his eyes glowed against the silken silver tunic he was wearing.

Capturing her hand, he ran his thumb over her skin, massaging her palm gently.

"The dragons represent House Targaryen," he continued in melancholic tones tinged with bitterness. "How symbolically fitting that they are all dead now."

"Legend holds that they will come again."

"Some things can't be rebuilt."

Violet eyes slid over to her face, and his expression brightened slightly.

"But I've burdened you enough with my disillusion and dispossession."

His lips whispered against her skin as he brought her hand to his mouth. He traced kisses down her arm up to her shoulder before burying his head in the crook of her neck. She cradled his head briefly before pushing him away.

"Rhaegar. We have to be careful."

Nodding slightly, he ran a hand across his face. A serious mood descended between them, and they moved slowly out of the throne room. Tucking her arm through his, Lyanna stole another worried glance in his direction.

Being around him made her stomach jump and flutter, and she gripped it nervously. Last night still haunted her. Seeing Rhaegar lose control the way he had worried her. She knew the pressure he felt was staggering, but she hadn't realized the toll it'd taken on him.

Sensing her anxiety and guessing what it was about, he stared hard back at her.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

"Only if you do," she responded quickly.

With a heavy sigh that reached above and beyond his young age, he pulled the corner of his mouth up into an encouraging half-smile.

"I just wanted to make sure…that you…how you…are you feeling better?"

"Much better, my lady. I just had a moment of weakness. You tend to bring that out in me." He laughed slightly, trying to make light of the situation.

Her eyes remained troubled, and he sobered quickly.

"How are _you_? You seem weary, and you look pale."

Shrugging away, she bit her lip. She had been feeling fatigued and ill for the last couple of days, but she didn't want to worry him.

"I think I'm just tired after last night."

"I am sorry for my role in that."

"Please don't be."

"I won't if you ease my conscious and go see a maester."

She nodded and they parted ways, fingers grasping at one another until the distance between them forced them apart.

* * *

Dazedly, Lyanna stumbled down the halls. Fingers grazed stone walls, the contact fleeting and tenuous. Barely conscious, she staggered around a corner. Grabbing her head, she closed her eyes and quickly opened them again, trying to bring the world into focus.

The trip to the maester had left her feeling worse, and the only thing that cut through her dizzying sickness was the blind panic that seized her mind. She felt numb. Blood pounded in her temples. Breathing was labored and constricted. Her feet faltered.

She was lost.

Her stomach heaved, and she lurched forward. A gasp ripped from her chest as she realized she was toppling over the edge. Stairs spiraled below her, and she flailed. Her stomach dropped as she felt herself plunging down. A scream stuck in her throat, and her eyes bulged in horror.

Distantly, she realized that though she was plummeting, the ground wasn't getting any closer. Death wasn't coming up to meet her. Awareness came back to her in pieces, and she felt a hand strongly gripping her elbow. Terror subsided and her body went limp with relief.

Arthur Dayne yanked her back. When he released her, she collapsed against the wall, chest heaving. He towered above her, his expression unreadable. Her lips were just beginning to form words of gratitude when her eyes fell on the woman who stood in profile behind the knight.

Elia stepped forward, regarding her coldly.

"Thank you, Ser Dayne. You may go."

He bowed and was gone, leaving the two women alone. Lyanna's eyes fell to the woman's protruding stomach, and she instinctively brought her hands around her own middle. Coming forward, Elia wrapped her arm around Lyanna's and led her away.

The princess guided her with more strength than she anticipated, and Lyanna found herself unable to break her steely grasp.

"The Serpentine Steps: so commonplace, and yet, so dangerous." Elia studied her shrewdly, her eyes cutting over to her.

"What were you trying to do, child? Throw yourself over the edge and end it all? Believe me, there are better ways to die…better places to die."

"N-no. I got dizzy and confused. It was an accident. I tripped."

"I'm not sure what's worse—the harm we do to ourselves knowingly, or the harm we do unknowingly. What do you think, dear?"

Lyanna swallowed hard, unnerved by the all-too-knowing look in the princess's eyes. She responded cautiously.

"Well, there is something to be said about choice. I think I would rather know the path I'm on."

Elia pulled her along, and she followed on unsteady footing.

"And what about the pain we deal to others?"

Lyanna hesitated, so Elia spoke for her.

"That's the trouble with the paths we take. It's impossible to see where they lead;" Elia turned her around another curve, "or how they converge;" they rounded another corner, "or what dangers lie at the end of them." They had arrived again at the Serpentine Steps, and Lyanna shrunk away. Elia let her go.

"We can't always go backwards, Lady Lyanna, but you still can."

"But what if we are trapped?"

"You are so young. What would you know of being trapped?"

She swept her hands over her own body, and Lyanna understood what she meant. The Princess was trapped in the Red Keep with her unfaithful husband and his mad father, and she was held hostage in her own body as it wasted away. Her pregnancy could very well take her life.

Lyanna brought her hands to her stomach and wondered what _her_ pregnancy would cost her.

* * *

**Confession time: I didn't necessarily intend for Rhaegar and Lyanna to be especially likable characters, and based on your reviews, I'm doing my job! Wow y'all are intense! I love it! I am hoping you'll see some redemption soon, though.**

**Admittedly, I worry about letting y'all down, so please be kind! xxx**


	16. Chapter 16

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I don't own anything, and I don't gain anything by this!**

* * *

"You haven't thought this through."

Arthur's eyes were boring into the back of his head, but still, he didn't look at him.

"_Please_, consider what you are doing."

Sighing, Rhaegar turned to regard his dearest friend. With sadness in his eyes and heaviness in his heart, he replied, each word coming at great cost to him.

"I _have_ considered, Arthur. Several times, I have come close to sending her away for good, but I cannot imagine losing her. There is a profound connection between us—a communion of our souls. She feels it, too. How can she marry that man, how can I tell her goodbye forever, when we are linked as we are?"

"What of your wife, to whom you are bound in a more…conventional…and…obvious way? What of your responsibility to her and your obligations to the throne?"

"Are you implying that I do not know my place?"

Rhaegar swelled impressively, eyes full of fire. The gentle prince was rarely incensed, but Arthur could see that he had awakened a dangerous anger. He bowed slightly and regretted speaking.

"Of course not. I never meant to suggest that you weren't mindful of your duty."

Arthur hesitated. He knew he was on dangerous ground. At the same time, he feared that if he didn't speak, they would soon find themselves in deadly circumstances. Haltingly, he continued.

"But you forget yourself around her. You have always done what's asked of you, and you have been a devoted and dutiful prince. You will be a great king. Why discard your honor now?"

"And while we're on the subject of honor, let's speak of yours. Or have _you _forgotten yourself? Be mindful of how you speak to me. You may be my oldest friend, but your position is still to serve me. Have you no more loyalty for your prince?"

Practically spitting with anger, Rhaegar unleashed a fury that Arthur had never before seen. He wondered at the change in the prince. His words faltered as he tried to quell the dragon he saw rearing beneath Rhaegar's surface.

"It was out of loyalty that I spoke at all. My only thought is to protect you. But I see now that I was out of line. Please, forgive me."

Tension subsided in Rhaegar's shoulders, and Arthur saw remorse flood through them.

"No, Arthur, forgive me. I should know a friend when I see one. I don't know what's come over me lately. I've been so changeful and angry. I see shadows everywhere, and I mistrust many. There is darkness all around. It even seeps into the corners of my mind. I lose myself to it sometimes. I'm worried, so very worried. She is one of the few bright spots in my life; she brings me back to myself."

With a furrowed brow, Arthur listened to his friend. Rhaegar's eyes, always so clear and self-assured, were now conflicted and swimming in doubt. _Troubled eyes, troubled mind_.

"I see now that she is a luxury I cannot afford. And she cannot afford the price of staying with me. My father's madness and the prison that is the Red Keep are steep costs. I will not make her pay it. I will send her away. She will be free of me."

* * *

"And you are sure that it's his child she carries?"

He stared down at the little man, his whisper light as a feather. The maester shifted uncomfortably. Varys smiled pleasantly. He was used to the unsettling effect he had on others, and he often used that fear as a weapon against them.

He weaved his web of riddles and lies and maintained hundreds of hidden spies. Unseen eyes hid in the shadows, tracking his prey and capturing their deepest buried confidences. The walls whispered to him. He could tease the secrets out of stones.

"I cannot say whose child it is, but I inspected her myself, and I can promise that she is pregnant."

"Well, that will not do at all."

Discontentedly, he turned to look out the window. Far below, he could see the Stark girl wandering around the garden. Even from a distance, he could see the worried slope to her shoulders. _She has no idea how worried she should be_.

The Stark girl presented an unanticipated problem. Varys controlled the king with ease, finding his madness malleable and his paranoia easily manipulated. But his anemic puppet was close to dying, and his heir was far less compliant.

His lip curled as he thought of the dragon prince. He was too strong-willed and guarded, and Varys knew that when Rhaegar took the throne, he would be dismissed from service. Plans were being made to deal with the prince, but he needed things to unfold a certain way. Aerys' mounting suspicions would take care of his son soon enough, and Elia would be inconsequential without her husband.

Varys served no man. He only served the realm, and he couldn't allow the Starks to gain a foothold here. He stared unflinchingly at the maester.

"That there is even a possibility that it could be the prince's child is threat enough. You know what you must do."

* * *

Early morning dew ran down the petals, and Lyanna watched as it collected and fell. Reaching out, she captured the moisture and rubbed it between her fingers. Steadily, she began pulling the flowers apart and dropping them into the dirt.

Teardrops fell thick and fast and landed on the roses to join the dewdrops.

"Lyanna?"

Her heart surged for affection when she saw her older brother. Concernedly, he wiped the tears from her face, and she pulled him into a shaking hug.

"I have been a fool, Ned. A stupid little girl. A child with wild dreams and a reckless heart. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Lya."

He rubbed her back soothingly. Drawing a steadying breath, she pulled away from him. Confusion and concern furrowed his brow.

"I should have listened to you. I turned my back on you and our family, and I tore everything apart."

"It's nothing that can't be undone."

He didn't understand. He could never understand. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.

"Telling him goodbye will be difficult, but it's what's right."

"Telling him goodbye is impossible, Ned."

"Lyanna, I don't underst—"

"—I beg your pardon, but I would speak with Lady Lyanna."

Ned was quick to bow, but Lyanna sunk slowly to a curtsey, her eyes on Rhaegar the entire time. There was something off in his expression, and it made her inexplicably nervous. Her brother hesitated, and she knew he was worried about leaving her. Tears still shone on her face.

"Please, Ned. You can leave us."

They watched his retreating back for a while before finally speaking.

"Forgive me, my lady, for interrupting the two of you, but I had to speak to you. I can see this is a bad time, and this is probably going to exacerbate that."

She started crying harder, knowing what was coming. He pulled her over to a bench and helped her sit. Hands came to her face but she shook them off. His body beside hers was shaking. Violet eyes sparkled with tears.

"I have to say this now, before I change my mind again."

He kissed the palm of her hand possessively. Lips lingered against her skin. The contact was tenuous and so fragile. Her throat closed up. Her grip on his shoulders slackened. Turning away from him, she wrapped her arms around herself. She was coming apart.

Rhaegar could feel her distress, and he absorbed it until it became his own.

"Lyanna, I need you to know that I love you. Desperately. That is why I'm doing this. You deserve a beautiful life, and all that stretches before me is bleakness. It was easy to fall into this with you, but it's selfish. I just keep thinking of all the people we're hurting, and if we continue with this, you'll end up more hurt than anyone. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you."

She nodded into her hands. His words sounded far away, and when she looked at him, it was as though she was seeing him through a haze. His eyes were bloodshot, and the planes of his face were cut into despair. Gripping his face frantically, she leaned her forehead against his.

"Please say something, Lyanna. This is tearing me apart. _You_ have torn me apart. I will never recover from this. This isn't easy, but there is no other way. Don't you agree?"

Wracking sobs and heaving breaths stole her ability to speak. Her stomach clenched dreadfully. He leaned close, his eyes penetrating. Finally, she spoke, ragged breaths breaking up her words.

"I would, if it weren't for the baby."

* * *

**So sad...and it's only going to get sadder. **sigh** why is love so hard lol**

**Thanks for the support. Y'all are the best xxx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Heavy dialogue here...sorry about that! As you know, GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I don't write for profit!**

* * *

Fingertips fluttered cautiously over her stomach. Closing her eyes, she could barely feel his touch.

"Rhaegar, I—I'm sorry," she whispered raggedly.

Awestricken, he stared up at her.

"You can't apologize to me. Not for this. This is a gift."

"How? Rhaegar, this child is a death sentence."

He came to kneel before her. Hands ghosted over her stomach, and kisses followed his touch. Fear ran rampant within her. She had not anticipated him to be so calm, and it made her panic increase exponentially.

"No, this child is a miracle of life."

Lyanna snapped her head away. _Why couldn't he understand?_ His fingers fell against her cheek and pried her gaze back to him.

"Listen to me, Lyanna. I thought your life would be better without me in it, but I see now that it can't be true. Our lives come together within you. Our baby is a sign that our fates were meant to intertwine. This is as the gods intended."

"It is folly to find fate in a fluke."

"Nothing happens that shouldn't. For so long, I have been looking for a path, and now that it unfolds before me, there is no going back."

Tears rolled down her cheeks and off of her nose and dripped into his silver hair.

"Think of all the people we're hurting. Think of what we're leaving behind. You are a sovereign prince. Your life cannot be dictated by one bad decision."

"We can talk in circles forever, but it comes to this: I told you I love you—"

"—When you were trying to send me away!"

"Lyanna."

His voice was suddenly hard as steel and unyielding as iron. She could hear tones of warning and inflections of obstinacy.

"I love you. We have been brought together for a greater purpose. I can feel it. I have told you what I can't live without. What about you?"

It was heartbreaking the way he looked at her. His dreams were so big and his plans so impossible.

"I'm worried, Rhaegar. And so, so afraid."

"Then trust me. I'm going to fix this. I'm going to fix it all."

Their lips found one another's, and her body relented to him before her mind did. Closing her eyes, she lost all her reason to her desire. Her fears were diluted as she became immersed in him.

"Alright," she barely breathed.

"I'll get you out of here as soon as I can."

All at once, she jerked away from him, her eyes snapping.

"You can't just push me away as if I were a problem you want to ignore."

"I'm going, too. We just have to part separately so that we don't arouse suspicion. This is all to protect you—both of you. Please, _please_ believe me. We're going to be together. All of us."

* * *

Silken slippers shuffled silently away from the gardens. Fingers laced in front of his portly form, Varys slipped away, a smile stretching across his face. The prince was weaving an ever more intricate tapestry of intrigue and deceit, and he had just hit a snag. Varys had found the loose thread, and he knew that he only need tease it, and the prince would pull the rest apart himself.

He hugged the shadows, the silk of his robes slithering across the castle ground, the sound as quiet as a whisper. Rounding the corner, he entered the throne room. Before him, the mad king sat slumped on his throne, but he was not the most sinister thing in this room.

"What whispers have you heard?"

Cold eyes surveyed him, but Varys only smiled. He approached his puppet, ready to pull the strings.

"The prince is very close to the edge, Your Grace."

"Lies."

The word stretched through the room, ending in an evil hiss. Varys waited.

"The smallfolk love him now more than ever. And they are not whispering. They are shouting for him to take my place on the throne. They are calling him the dragon reborn. They are calling him their savior."

"Then we will just have to make him into a monster."

* * *

The city was teeming with disease and poverty, and the stench of fear and death was inescapable. Ned stared around with ill-concealed disgust. Trying to ignore the sickening scene around him, he turned to face Robert, who looked similarly appalled.

The innocent tour of the city he and Robert had decided to take had turned into an abysmal discovery that he wished he could erase from his conscious memory. He'd had no idea it was this bad. They were at the center of decay, and its fingers were reaching slowly over Westeros. The Targaryen hold was slackening and guiding the country to ruin. And Lyanna was somehow entrenched in it all.

"Ned, someone has to do something."

It took him a moment to realize that Robert wasn't talking about Rhaegar and Lyanna. Snapped back to the present, he looked again at the ruins of Aerys' reign.

"The prince will succeed his father soon enough, and the kingdom will be set to rights again."

Robert shook his head sadly. The look on his face terrified Ned. The longer this went on, the more embedded they became with the Targaryens and their politics. They needed to leave while there was still a chance for escape.

"The dragon prince is all smoke and no fire. He plays his harp and wallows in his sorrows constantly. He is not a leader, Ned."

"Leadership is not all about brute force. The people love him, and he is a good man. We need to trust him."

"No, we need action!"

"We need to go home. Lyanna's been feeling ill as of late. I think she's ready to return to Harrenhal, and Jon Arryn needs us back in The Vale."

"Lovely Lyanna. I have missed seeing her beautiful face over these weeks. She almost never leaves her room, and when I go to her, she is always too ill to see me."

Ned said nothing, an uncomfortable feeling washing over him. He would drag Lyanna kicking and screaming out of this place if he had to. If he didn't know it before, he knew it now: there was a darkness here, and it was threatening to suck them all in.

* * *

**Oh Varyssssssss; so evil haha. I keep wanting to write them a happy ending, but alas, it cannot be!**

**Sorry for how long it took me to update. I'm in the process of moving, and I'm about to start fall classes, so it's a touch stressful! I will be more diligent in updating, I promise!**

**Thanks for all the reviews and reads! xxx**


	18. Chapter 18

**This one's short and sad. Sorry about that!**

**As always, GRRM gets all credit for the characters and for ASOIAF. I write for entertainment and not for profit!**

* * *

Ned stared at the huddled, trembling mass swathed in a heavy cloak and sitting atop the horse before him. Lyanna's pale face stared out from the dark hood, and her hand extended from the folds of the fabric. Their hands met in a tight grasp, and Ned felt her tremors travel down his arm.

Her frailty troubled him. Something was amiss, he knew. It was written all over her pallid complexion and coded into her dull and expressionless eyes. Sending her away felt like he was losing her, but it appeared as though she had already lost herself. A stranger was gazing out at him. This Lyanna, he did not know. This Lyanna wasn't his sister. He didn't know this girl who had no fight and no confidence in her.

Ned knew that his sister had developed feelings for Rhaegar, but he hadn't realized that she had grown so attached that parting from him caused such a profound physical transformation. He did not understand the connection between his sister and his prince, but he could feel that it was something bigger than any of them were able to control.

As though summoned by his thoughts, the dragon prince appeared in the fading light. Pale as a ghost, silent as a shadow, Rhaegar advanced toward them, his eyes constantly on her. He was drawn to her, and they would forever come back to one another. He claimed Lyanna's hand with his own, easing Ned out of the way. Only when their eyes met did color seem to return to her face.

An unspoken conversation seemed to pass between them before he melted away, almost as though he had never even been there. The siblings were alone again, and Lyanna resumed her despondency.

She didn't comment on the strange occurrence with the prince, and Ned didn't ask. She knew his objections were coming, and she steeled herself, trying to gather her frayed nerves and pool her remaining strength to fight him.

"I don't think it's wise for you to travel while you are so ill. I especially don't think you should travel alone."

"I'm not alone, Ned. Rhaegar was kind enough to send a maester with me, and Ser Arthur is escorting me back to Harrenhal with others of the Kingsguard. Everything is going to be fine."

The last part she said was more to reassure herself than her brother. In truth, she didn't much fancy the idea of travelling with Ser Arthur. He had a tendency to regard her with disapproval. Rhaegar had told her of his objections, and she knew that he was the one who had pushed him to end their affair.

"But must you go right now? It's almost dark. Is this really wise?"

The time was well past for her to make wise decisions, but Lyanna didn't have the heart to tell him that.

She was saved the necessity of a response by the arrival of her escorts. Arthur Dayne looked happy enough as he rode toward her. He smiled somewhat warmly—pityingly almost—no doubt feeling more charitable now that he believed she was being sent away. The maester behind him looked far more somber, and Lyanna wondered if it was because he knew the truth of her condition. Her arms snaked around her stomach at the thought.

A little more than two moons had passed since she and Rhaegar had created the child that she now carried, and some days, she could feel it move. It nudged against her hold, making her stomach soar and her heart clench. The child didn't rest easily within her, and she carried it with difficulty.

It made her sick, and it made her afraid.

The maester had given her potions to take. He said they would make the pregnancy easier and that they would take away some of the sickness and the pain. She assumed he meant those that were superficial. Beneath it all, there would always be sickness and there would always be pain. Instead of taking the maester's help, she had poured them out, wanting to feel the punishment of the misery.

To see Ned looking up at her with so much anguish tore at her heart. She sat before him, a collection of broken pieces, and Rhaegar was the only thing holding her together.

Her brother looked ready to continue begging her to reconsider, but Robert's arrival precluded further discussion.

With a smile that felt incongruous to the solemn scene, her bumbling betrothed approached her, slapping Ned on the back in greeting. Without warning, Robert reached up and wrapped his hands around her waist before lifting her to the ground. Instinctively, Lyanna flinched away from him, engulfed in terror at the prospect of him discovering her secret.

His hands rested for just a beat before releasing her. Instead of feeling anger, Lyanna felt the strangest wave of deferred nostalgia. She wondered what a lifetime with those hands would have been like.

Robert was neither witty nor exciting, and nothing he said was intelligent or riveting, but he represented a safety and a security that she had chosen to forsake. Under different circumstances, in a different life, he could have been her refuge. She had never wanted him, but she regretted that foolishness now. She had been so quick to discard her shackles that she hadn't realized that she was sprinting full-force into another kind of imprisonment.

Held hostage by her grave mistakes and restless dreams, Lyanna had only trapped herself further in her pursuit of freedom. As she stared at Robert, an indescribable sense of loss washed over her. In his face, she saw her vanishing past; in her growing stomach, she felt her unraveling present; and in the blackness surrounding her, she sensed her absent future.

* * *

**So dramatic. So tragic. I've always loved Lyanna as a strong character, and it bums me out to see her so broken right now. But don't worry; she's got some fight in her yet.**

**Sorry this took so long to update. I was dealing with some stuff in real life, and I just started school, so things have been hectic. I'm planning on being more consistent even with classes, but I can't make any promises.**

**Thanks for reading, y'all! Hopefully, I will be back soon! xxx**


	19. Chapter 19

**GRRM owns all characters and ASOIAF. I do not write for profit!**

* * *

Yet again, Lyanna put her back to another place, somehow knowing that it was forever. Robert and Ned were mere specks in the distance, and they were growing smaller by the minute. She did not hesitate to look back; the only certainty in her life was what she was leaving behind.

Robert's kiss goodbye had been sweet and laced with good intentions and naïve hopes for the future. For once, she had returned it fully. If only for a moment, she wanted to stand in the shoes of someone who had a life free of complications and misery. Arthur and Ned had watched approvingly, satisfied to see her finally assuming her proper role. Even _she_ had almost believed in her and Robert's happy ending; she almost believed there was hope for them.

The spell had broken when they pulled apart. Behind his sweet smile, she remembered the reality of what he'd meant to her. Her romanticized view of him was borne of fear, but the truth floated to the surface. Robert was nothing to her; just a security blanket she tried to cling to. It was Rhaegar she loved, and it was for Rhaegar that she would be strong.

They rode at a slow and steady pace. Arthur was as stoic and impassive as ever, and she knew that in him, she would find no great conversation partner. She didn't mind. There would be no point in trying to befriend him now. He was going to hate her anew in due time.

Their third night out, darkness fell earlier than usual, and Arthur wanted to stop and make camp. Lyanna refused, spurring them on with an urgency that made him stare at her in wonder. Her heart thudded in her chest in anticipation.

Thunder rumbled far away, and the horses balked, sensing the storm in the distance. The stars seemed to dim, reflecting the ominous mood. Hesitation rippled through the riders, but Lyanna pushed on, feigning unconcern and pretending not to notice.

Winds whipped up, lifting the wisps of her hair and howling in her ears. Their small procession fought through the resistance. The wind blew them back, a harbinger of the storm to come. Thunder rolled in closer and louder. The cacophony erupted around her, seeming to cleave the air with the noise. All of her hairs stood on end, and she could feel the electricity in the air gathering.

Arthur was trying to shout something at her above the noise, and she could hear tones of panic ripping through the wind. Snippets of his words reached her, carried by forceful gusts.

"Lady…we…stop!...not safe…Please!"

Her horse reared, bringing her to a stop despite her intentions. She brought it around and tried to find the men who had scattered in the dark. Lightning ripped through the sky, illuminating everything in stark and fleeting light. Arthur Dayne's face flickered closer to her. Short-lived brightness again covered the earth, and she was barely able to bring his form into focus before blackness robbed her of her vision.

Her ribs vibrated with the sound of the roiling storm, and she bent against the force of it. Her horse was bucking wildly. Holding on became a struggle, and she feared that she would meet the ground and her death if the thrusts continued. Arthur reached her at last, and his arms crashed around her, dragging her onto his saddle. Her horse galloped into the night, getting further away with each flash of brightness until she could see him no longer.

"We need to get to safer ground," he shouted in her ear.

_No_. They needed to reach the river. But he was directing them the opposite way, toward the giant pile of rocks at the far edge of the empty field. She could see the black mouth of a cave depressed in its side. Into the gaping hole they went with her struggling the whole way there.

Men huddled against the rocks, grateful to find solace from the violence of the storm. Only Lyanna was uneasy, hovering agitatedly at the entrance. Vibrating with anxiety, she watched as forks of light stabbed the ground and painted skeletal images in the sky. The baby stirred in her stomach, and she draped an arm over her stomach to quiet it.

_Don't fret, little one. He is coming._

She hung from a single thread of hope. Arthur Dayne moved to her side and looked at her querulously.

"What are you looking for, my lady?"

"A dream."

"You spew enigmas, just like—"

It was with compunction that he cut short his words, not wanting to broach the point of contention between them.

"Just like…Rhaegar?"

His indignant intake of breath informed her of his disapproval of her familiarity with the prince, but he nodded without any other disparagement.

"He is a difficult man to make out."

"Not really; he just wants to do right by everyone."

"Which doesn't explain his dalliance with you."

"It's always accusing eyes and damning words with you. I suppose _that_ explains Rhaegar's attachment to you."

"What can you mean?"

"Rhaegar's predilections for heroics necessarily demand flagellation for his failings. So much expectation is foisted upon him, you'd expect him to crack, but it only makes him try harder. The grand design of his life leaves no room for deficiencies, as I suspect you remind him every day of his life."

"I think only of his own good. It is you who are his greatest weakness. He never faltered before you."

Anger colored her cheeks, but she couldn't deny the veracity of his accusations.

"It is true enough that I marked his stumble into sin. I am a plague upon his life, and I have thoroughly destroyed any chance of redemption."

She spoke not without a touch of hysterics, and she wondered how much longer the gods were going to remind her of her failings. Her harsh words softened his ire, and he couldn't blame her entirely. With a sigh, he laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch, but she didn't pull away.

"You are too severe on yourself. You are but a child. And I think _that_ is more to blame than you are. I can see there was no malignancy in your actions. You were merely caught up in juvenile affectations and immature notions of romanticism. Youth has a penchant for conceit and an aversion for conscience. It is propitious that you part from him before more problems arise. The prince will stay with his wife, and you will marry Robert. This affair will fade to an ill-advised mistake and a wisely discarded memory."

"How can we forget? We dug ourselves into a pit of damage and despair."

"And you have dug yourselves out again."

The kindness in his voice only increased her shame, and she couldn't meet his eyes. She didn't deserve his forgiveness.

Almost to reinforce this sentiment, thunder crackled portentously, building to an explosion of crashes and reverberations. Pale fingers tightened against the stones of the cave's edge. There were no words left to say, and Arthur left her soon enough. She leaned against the sharp stones, and exhaustion drew her to the ground.

Tinges of sleep colored her vision, and it was just beginning to claim her consciousness when she felt a light touch on her back. The maester's concerned face hovered above her as her eyes flickered open.

"Please, my lady, consider your health. It is not good for…_you_…to be exposed to the elements like this. Come closer into the warmth." He said this with a pointed look at her middle, and she knew he was right.

Lethargic footsteps brought her closer to her travelling companions, all settling in for the night. The baby shifted again.

_Soon, little one._

* * *

The storm raged for hours, and Lyanna slept fitfully through it. Despite all the other elements preparing for it, the sky did not open, and the rain did not pour forth. The thunder raged, and the lightning crashed, beckoning it, but still the rain did not come. The rumblings underscored her own restlessness and increased her sense of anticipation.

Distantly, she heard another sound, the sound of horse hooves. Heart thudding painfully, she scrambled again to look outside. Arthur Dayne, who had been watching over her in the night and guarding her from the other men, followed her curiously.

As the white horse soared into view, there could not have been two more different expressions on display. Pure joy lit up Lyanna's face where complete dejection crumpled Arthur's.

There, astride the great white creature before them, sat the dragon prince. His silver hair whipped around his determined face, carved in beauty and authority. Power radiated from him, and lightning crashed impressively behind him. In the ephemeral light, his eyes shone with a fire that was awe-inspiring to behold.

He leapt down, and Arthur half expected him to turn into a dragon and take flight. Lyanna ran to him as he landed solidly on the ground, and he caught her. Between them, there was an electricity, a fire, that was more awesome and more destructive than the elements that raged around them.

And Arthur, Arthur was afraid.

They had left the pit only to come to the abyss.

* * *

**I am sorry that I have been delinquent with updating this! My days have been hectic. But writing this chapter reminded me just how much I love this story, and upon its completion, I immediately started the next chapter.**

**Thanks for reading/following/reviewing! I WILL return soon! xxx**


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